"I have been unable to learn the author of it. Only a moment ago I was talking with one of the unfortunate men who have been paid for it. I could not dissuade him." "And didn't that fellow say who paid him?" "Yes. Asking me to keep the secret, he told me that it was you." "My God!" exclaimed Ibarra. He stood stupefied. "Señor, don't hesitate, don't doubt, don't lose time, for undoubtedly the conspiracy will break out this very night." Ibarra, with staring eyes, and hands holding his head, seemed not to hear him. "The blow cannot be thwarted," continued Elias. "I have arrived too late. I do not know their leaders ... save yourself, Señor, save yourself for the sake of your country." "Where shall I flee? They are expecting me this evening," exclaimed Ibarra, thinking of Maria Clara. "To any other town, to Manila, to the house of some official; only flee somewhere so that they will not say that you are directing the movement." "And if I myself denounce the conspiracy?" "You denounce it?" exclaimed Elias, looking at him, and stepping back. "You would pass for a traitor and a coward in the eyes of the conspirators, and for a pusillanimous person in the eyes of others. They would say that you had played a trick to win some praise, they would say...." "But what can be done?" "Already I have told you. Destroy all the papers you have which relate to you; flee and await developments." "And Maria Clara?" exclaimed the young man. "No; death first!" Elias wrung his hands and said: "Well, then, at least avoid the blow. Prepare yourself against their accusations." Ibarra looked around him in a stupefied manner. "Then, help me! There in those bags I have my family letters. Sort out those from my father, which are, perhaps, the ones that would incriminate me. Read the signatures." Ibarra, stunned and overwhelmed, opened and closed drawers, collected papers, hastily read letters, tore up some, kept others, took down books and thumbed through some of them. Elias did the same, if indeed with less confusion, with equal zeal. But he stopped, with eyes wide open, turned over a paper which he had in his hand and asked in a trembling voice: "Did your family know Don Pedro Eibarramendia?" "Certainly!" replied Ibarra, opening a drawer and taking out a pile of papers. "He was my great-grandfather." "Your great grandfather? Don Pedro Eibarramendia?" he again asked, with livid features and a changed appearance. "Yes," replied Ibarra, distracted. "We cut short the name, for it was too long." "He was a Basque?" said Elias approaching him. "Yes; but what's the matter?" he asked, surprised. Elias closed his fist, shook it in Ibarra's face and looked at him. Crisostomo stepped back as soon as he read the expression on that face.