Tio Jorge was on the point of resenting, on Jack’s behalf, the glare with which the priest accompanied these words; but Jack laid his hand on the man’s arm, and, advancing to the bedside, spoke to the worn figure lying there. "You remember, Señor, the despatch that was brought to you from the Supreme Junta, little more than a week ago, by one of your officers who made his way by night through the French lines?" "I remember it." "You have that despatch still?" "I have. Why do you ask?" "Pardon me, Señor, you will see in a few moments. You observed nothing unusual about the seal?" "Nothing." "It was the usual seal of the Junta," put in Don Basilio. "I have the despatch." "Will you allow me to look at it?" The chaplain hesitated; he appeared to be about to ask a question, but Tio Jorge interposed. "The despatch, Señor Padre! The Señor has a reason; I know it not, but he fought with me by the Casa Ximenez, and what he says, por Dios! there is sense in it." "Produce the despatch, Padre," said Palafox. Don Basilio went to a cabinet, and after a little search found the despatch and handed it to Jack. The seal was broken across the middle. Jack examined the edges carefully, lifting the wax slightly with his thumb nail. He looked up. "It is as I thought," he said. "Will Don Basilio look?" The priest took the paper and looked at it with an air of puzzlement and surprise. "I see red wax and paper," he said coldly. "What of that?" "Do you not see, Señor Padre, a slight browning of the paper beneath, as though it had been scorched?" The chaplain scrutinized the seal again. The other priests watched him in silence; Palafox kept his burning eyes fixed on Jack; and Tio Jorge stood with his lips parted as though wondering what deep mystery was concerned here. "I do see a faint coloration," said Don Basilio at length; "a light tinge at the edge of the wax, becoming a little darker beneath the seal. What then?" "This, Señor. The paper, I suggest, was scorched by the passage of a hot keen blade beneath the seal." There was a painful silence. Then Tio Jorge cried, "Por Dios! that explains everything. It is all clear. The man that brought it is a villain, an afrancesado, Señores! And ’tis he who has sought to harm the brave English Señor here! Death to all traitors! Death to Don Miguel Priego!" "Stay, stay!" said Padre Consolacion, his round face wearing a look of concern. "This is a terrible charge to bring against a reputable citizen of Saragossa." "One of my own hussars," murmured Palafox. "He was my pupil," continued the padre. "I have known him since he was an infant. I knew his father, an estimable man; he cannot be a traitor. If the despatch was opened, it must have been without his knowledge. Of that I am sure." "The evidence is not sufficient—not sufficient," said Palafox. "You must be mistaken, Señor Lumsden."