"So, then, you know that there is a TREASURE on that ground!"
Uncle Juan Gomez leaned over in his seat, and scanning the Catalan from head to foot, exclaimed with a comical air:
"What vexes me is that you, too, should know it!"
"And it would vex you much more if I should tell you that I am the only person who knows it with certainty."
"That is to say, that you know the precise spot in which the treasure is buried?"
"I know the precise spot, and it would not take me twenty-four hours to disinter all the wealth that lies hidden there."
"According to that you have in your possession a certain document—"
"Yes; I have a document of the time of the Moors, half a yard square, in which all the necessary directions to find the treasure are given."
"And tell me—this document—"
"I do not carry it about with me, nor is there any reason why I should do so, since I know it word for word by heart, both in Spanish and in Arabic. Oh, I am not such a fool as ever to deliver myself up, bag and baggage, to the enemy! So that before coming to this country I concealed the document—where no one but myself will ever be able to find it."