"What is it?" he inquired. "Have any of the men failed to show thee the proper respect? If so, thou hast but to speak, and I will know how to punish them." "No, it is not that," I answered. "I find this morning the body of one of the natives swinging in front of my window. Who has done this deed?" and I looked intently at him. His voice was cold as he replied: "He was a mutinous rogue, and even dared to disobey my orders. The safety of my plans--the safety of us all--depends upon the rigidity of the discipline which I maintain. Did I but loose the reins, even for a moment, the men would break out of all bounds, and our heads would pay the penalty; so I punished him as he deserved." "No need to hang him to my window, if thou didst!" I cried. "Thou hast done many deeds of bloodshed and sin, but as I live I shall have thy life for this!" and I struck the table with my fist a loud blow. "It is a warning, Sir Thomas," he drawled, "'a word to the wise is sufficient.' As for thy sword, put it up. I will not fight thee now; I told thee once before, that I could not cross swords with thee just yet. Have no fear, I will meet thee; thou hadst best save thy wind and thy sword too, for thou wilt need them;" and he drummed upon the table with his fingers, unconcerned, though I stood within two feet of him, my sword in hand, and could have run him through before he could have saved himself. "Dost thou call thyself a gentleman?" I asked bitterly, "and hire a cutthroat to slay a man, whom thou fearest to meet thyself?" A dull red flush covered the Count's face, his eyes glittered like a trapped beast. "What meanest thou?" he growled hoarsely. "Explain thyself, for I know not what thou referrest to." "I refer to last night, when Father Francis tried to knife me by thy command while I slept," I answered. "Oh! thou art a noble of Spain to do such work as this; and then fear to meet the man thou didst try to have murdered. I would disgrace myself by crossing swords with such as thee." "Have a care," he growled, his face swollen with anger, "have a care lest I forget myself and run thee through. As for the priest, I swear to thee that I know naught of that which thou sayest, until thou didst tell me of it but a moment ago. This much I will say to thee, that I never yet feared man or devil. I have ever done my work in the open, have never stooped to such tricks as this, and were it not for a matter that I cannot explain I would fight thee now, and forever rid myself of thee." "Save thy breath for one who will believe thee," I answered. "As for myself, I believe naught that thou hast said." And picking up my hat, I left him there, his face hot and red with rage, and walked out upon the porch.