CHAPTER XXXIII. SETTLEMENT OF ACCOUNTS.

Hidden behind the passage door, the adventurer had not lost a word of what was said. When don Melchior and don Antonio rose, don Jaime, not knowing by what door they would go out, hastily left the passage, glided into the corral, and waited in concealment behind the hedge. But, a few minutes after, as nothing had stirred, and no noise was heard, he ventured to leave his hiding place and enter the passage again.

Then he approached the door, and applied his eye to the crack through which he had been previously able to see all that went on in the room. The two men bad just gone; don Felipe was alone, still seated at the table, and drinking. The adventurer's resolution was at once formed: placing the blade of his knife between the crack against the bolt, he noiselessly opened the door, silently approached the guerillero, and revealed his presence to him in the somewhat startling way we described at the end of the preceding chapter.

Though the guerillero was brave, the sudden appearance of the adventurer, and the sight of the revolvers pointed at him alarmed him. Don Jaime took advantage of this moment of prostration; without uncocking his pistols, he walked straight to the door through which don Melchior and don Antonio had retired, secured it inside to avoid any surprise, then returned slowly to the table, sat down on a trunk, laid his pistols before him, and letting his cloak fall, said—

"Let us have a talk."

Though these words were pronounced in a rather gentle voice, the effect they produced on the guerillero was immense.

"El Rayo!" he exclaimed, with a shudder of terror on perceiving the black mask which covered the face of his singular visitor.

"Ah! Ah!" the latter said with an ironical laugh, "So you recognize me, my dear don Felipe?"

"What do you want of me?" he stammered.

"Several things," the adventurer replied; "but let us proceed regularly, as there is no hurry."

The guerillero poured out a tumbler of Catalu?a refino, raised it to his lips, and emptied it at a draught.

"Take care," the adventurer observed to him; "Spanish brandy is strong, it easily rises to the head; it is better, considering what is going to pass between us, for you to retain your coolness."

"That is true," the guerillero muttered; and seizing the bottle by the neck, he hurled it against the wall.

The adventurer smiled, then continued while carelessly rolling a cigarette between his fingers—

"I see that you have a good memory, and I am glad of it; I was afraid you had forgotten me."

"No, no; I remember our last meeting at Las Cumbres."

"Exactly: do you remember how that interview terminated?"

The guerillero turned pale, but made no reply.

"Good: I see that your memory fails you, but I will come to its aid."

"It is unnecessary," don Felipe replied, raising his head and appearing to form a resolution; "as chance permitted me to see your features, you told me—"

"I know—I know," the adventurer interrupted.

"Well, I am going to keep the promise I made you."

"All the better," he said resolutely. "After all, a man can only die once; as well today as another day. I am ready to meet you."

"I am delighted to find you in such a warlike temper," the adventurer coldly answered; "restrain your ardour a little, pray: everything shall have its turn, I assure you, but that is not the point for the moment."

"What is it, then?" the guerillero asked with amazement.

"I am going to tell you."

The adventurer smiled again, rested his elbows on the table, and leaned over slightly to the guerillero.

"How much," he said, "did you ask your noble friends for the letter which se?or don Benito Juárez ordered you to deliver to them?"

Don Felipe fixed on him a look of terror, and mechanically made the sign of the cross.

"This man is the fiend," he muttered with horror.

"No; re-assure yourself I am not the fiend, but I know a good many things about you more especially, and the numerous businesses you carry on. I know the bargain you made with a certain don Diego: moreover, if you desire it, I will repeat to you word for word the conversation which you held scarce an hour ago in this very room with the se?ores don Melchior de la Cruz and Don Antonio de Cacerbar. Now, let us come to facts: I wish you to give me—you understand me, I suppose?—Give me, and not sell me, the letter of se?or Juárez which you have in your dolman, which you refused to the honourable caballeros whose names I mentioned to you, and surrender to me at the same time the other papers of which you are the bearer, and which I presume must be very interesting."

The guerillero had had time to recover a portion of his coolness, hence it was in rather a firm voice that he said—

"What do you intend doing with these papers?"

"That can be of very little importance to you when they are no longer in your hands."

"And if I refuse to surrender them?"

"I shall be obliged to take them by force, that is all," he answered calmly.

"Caballero," don Felipe said with an accent of dignity at which the adventurer was surprised, "it is not worthy of a brave man like yourself thus to menace a defenseless man. My only weapon is my sabre, while you, on the contrary, hold the lives of a dozen men at your disposal."

"This time there is an appearance of reason in what you say," the adventurer observed, "and your remark would be just were I about to use my revolvers in forcing you to do what I demand of you; but re-assure yourself you shall have a loyal combat, and my pistols will remain on this table. I will merely cross my machete with your sabre, which will not only re-establish the balance between us, but also give you a signal advantage over me."

"Will you really act thus, caballero?"

"I pledge you my word of honour; I am accustomed always to settle accounts honourably both with my enemies and my friends."

"Ah! You call that settling accounts?" he said ironically.

"Certainly; what other name can I employ?"

"But whence comes this hatred you bear me?"

"I do not hate you more than any other villain of your stamp," he said savagely. "In a moment of braggadocio you wished to see my face, so that you might recognize me hereafter. I warned you that the sight would cost you your life: perhaps I should have forgotten you, but today you again came across my track. You possess papers which are indispensable to me, and these papers I have resolved on gaining at any price. You refuse them to me; I can secure them by killing you, and I shall kill you. Now I grant you five minutes to reflect, and to tell me if you persist in your refusal."

"The five minutes you so generously grant me are unnecessary; my resolution is unbending: you shall only have the papers with my life."

"Very good; you will die," he said as he rose.

He took his revolvers, uncocked them, and laid on the table at the other end of the room; then returning to the guerillero and drawing his machete, he asked—

"Are you ready?"

"One moment," don Felipe answered, as he rose in his turn; "before crossing swords with you, I have two requests to make."

"Go on."

"Is the duel we are going to fight mortal?"

"Here is the proof," the adventurer answered, as he unfastened his mask and threw it from him.

"Good," he said; "the proof you give me is quite sufficient, and one of us must die. Let us suppose it is I."

"Any supposition is unnecessary, the fact is certain."

"I admit it," the guerillero answered coldly; "in the case of it being realized, do you promise me to do what I am about to ask of you?"

"Yes, on my honour, if it be possible."

"Thanks—it is possible; it is merely to be my residuary legatee."

"I will be so; go on."

"I have a mother and young sister, who live rather poorly in a small house situated not far from the canal de Las Vigas, in Mexico; you will find their exact address in my papers."

"Good."

"I desire them to be put in possession of my fortune after my death."

"It shall be done; but where is this fortune to be found?"

"At Mexico; all my funds are deposited with—and Co., English bankers. On the simple presentation of my voucher, the sum will be handed over to you in full."

"Is that all?"

"Not quite. I have about me several bills, amounting altogether to fifty thousand piastres, drawn on various foreign banks in Mexico. You will have them cashed, add the amount to the sums you have previously received, and the whole will be handed over to my mother and sister. Do you swear to do this?"

"I pledge you my honour."

"Good; I have confidence in you. I have only one more request to make of you."

"What is it?"

"This: we Mexicans are very clumsy hands with sabres and swords, whose use we are ignorant of, as duels are prohibited by law. The only weapon we can properly use is the knife: will you consent to our fighting with knives? Of course it is understood that we fight with the whole blade."

"The strange duel you propose to me is better suited for leperos and bandits than caballeros; but I accept."

"I am grateful to you for so much condescension, caballero, and now may Heaven protect me. I will do my best."

"Amen!" the adventurer said, with a smile.

This calm conversation between two men on the point of cutting each other's throats, this will, made so coolly, whose execution is confided, in the case of the death of one of the adversaries to the survivor, displays one of the strangest phases in the Mexican character; for these details are most strictly true. Although very brave naturally, the Mexican fears death, the feeling is innate in him: but when the moment arrives to risk his life, or even to lose it, no one accepts with greater philosophy, or, to speak more correctly, with greater indifference, this harsh alternative, or accomplishes with greater willingness a sacrifice which, among other nations, is never regarded without a certain degree of terror, end an instinctive nervous tremor.

As for duelling, the Mexican laws prohibit it even among officers. Hence emanate the numerous assassinations and snares laid to wash out insults received, which it is impossible otherwise to avenge. The leperos and lower classes alone fight with the knife.

This combat, which is perfectly regulated, has its laws, which must not be transgressed. The opponents make their conditions as to the length of the blade, so as to settle beforehand the depths of the wounds to be dealt. They fight with one inch, two inches, the half, or entire blade, according to the gravity of the insult. The combatants place their thumb on the blade at the agreed on length, and the thing is settled.

Don Felipe and don Jaime had unhooked their swords, which were now useless, and armed themselves with the long knife which every Mexican carries in his right boot. After taking off their cloaks, they rolled them round their left arms, carefully letting a small part hang down in guise of a curtain: it is with this arm, thus protected, that blows are parried. Then, the two men fell on guard, with their legs straddled and slightly bent, the body forward, the left arm half extended, and the blade of the knife concealed behind the cloak. The fight commenced with equal fury on either side. The two men turned and bounded round one another, advancing and falling back like two wild beasts. Eye to eye, with clenched teeth, and panting chest.

It was really a combat to death they were fighting. Don Felipe had a perfect knowledge of this dangerous weapon; several times his adversary saw the bluish flash of the steel dazzle eyes, and felt the sharp point of the knife slightly buried in his flesh; but, calmer than the guerillero, he allowed the latter to exhaust himself in vain efforts, waiting with the patience of a lurking tiger for the favourable moment to finish by one stroke.

Several times, harassed by fatigue, they stopped by common accord, and then rushed on each other with renewed fury. The blood flowed from several slight wounds they had dealt each other, and dropped on the floor of the room. All at once don Felipe gathered himself up, and leapt forward with the rapidity of a jaguar; but his foot slipped in the blood, he tottered, and while he was striving to regain his balance, the whole of don Jaime's blade was buried in his chest.

The unhappy man heaved a stifled sigh, a flood of blood poured from his mouth, and he fell like a dog on the ground. The adventurer bent over him, he was dead—the blade had passed through his heart.

"Poor devil!" don Jaime muttered, "He brought it on himself."

After this laconic, funeral discourse, he fell on the guerillero's dolman and calconciras, and seized all the papers about him. Then he took up his revolver, resumed his mask, and wrapping himself as well as he could in his cloak, which was cut to pieces, he left the room, reached the passage, went through the hole in the hedge unnoticed by the sentry who was still standing in front of the door, and on arriving at a certain distance from the Palo Quemado, he imitated the hoot of the owl. Almost immediately López appeared with the two horses.

"To Mexico," don Jaime cried, as he bounded into the saddle; "this time, I believe, I hold my vengeance."

The two riders started at full speed. The delight which the adventurer experienced at the unhoped for success of his expedition, made him forget the pain of the stabs, slight it is true, which he had received in his duel.