“Simply to see the country.”
He laughed scornfully.
“To see the country! What nonsense is this? How can anybody see a country which is ravaged by brigands and convulsed with civil war? And where is your authority?”
“My passport.”
“A passport such as this is only available in a time of peace. No stranger unprovided with a safe conduct from the capitan-general is allowed to travel in the province of Caracas. It is useless trying to deceive us, señor. Your purpose is to carry information to the rebels, probably to join them, as is proved by your possession of a letter to so base a traitor as Señor Ulloa.”
On this I explained how I had obtained the letter, and pointed out that the very fact of my asking the posadero to direct me to Ulloa’s house, and going thither openly, was proof positive of my innocence. Had my purpose been that which he imputed to me, I should have shown more caution.
“That does not at all follow,” rejoined the president. “You may have intended to disarm suspicion by a pretence of ignorance. Moreover, you expressed to the señor posadero sentiments hostile to the Government of his Majesty the King.”
“It is untrue. I did nothing of the sort,” I exclaimed, impetuously.
“Mind what you say, prisoner. Unless you treat the tribunal with due respect you shall be sent back to the carcel and tried in your absence.”
“Do you call this a trial?” I exclaimed, indignantly. “I am a British subject. I have committed no offence; but if I must be tried I demand the right of being tried by a civil tribunal.”