Here Ramirez related, with some vehemence how he mistook the room, and the stranger's brusque salutation. The company listened attentively and even respectfully. An American audience would have laughed. The present company did not alter their serious demeanour; a breach of politeness to a stranger was a matter of grave importance even to these doubtful characters. Don Pedro explained-- "Ah, so it is believed that God has visited him here." He tapped his forehead. "He is not of their country fashion at all. He has punctuality, he has secrecy, he has the habitude. When strikes the clock three he is here; when it strikes nine he is gone. Six hours to work in that room! Ah, heavens! The quantity of work--it is astounding! Folios! Volumes! Good! it is done. Punctually at nine of the night he takes up a paper left on his desk by his _padrone_, in which is enwrapped ten dollars--the golden eagle, and he departs for that day. They tell to me that five dollars is gone at the gambling table, but no more! then five dollars for subsistence--always the same. Always! Always! He is a scholar--so profound, so admirable! He has the Spanish, the French, perfect. He is worth his weight in gold to the lawyers--you understand--but they cannot use him. To them he says--'I translate, lies or what not! Who knows? I care not--but no more.' He is wonderful!" The allusion to the gaming-table revived Victor's recollection, and his intention in his present visit. "Thou hast told me, Don Pedro," he said, lowering his voice in confidence, "how much is fashioned the testimony of the witnesses in regard of the old land grants by the Governors and Alcaldes. Good. Is it so?" Don Pedro glanced around the room. "Of those that are here to-night five will swear as they are prepared by me--you comprehend--and there is a Governor, a Military Secretary, an Alcalde, a Comandante, and saints preserve us! an Archbishop! They are respectable _caballeros_; but they have been robbed, you comprehend, by the _Americanos_. What matters? They have been taught a lesson. They will get the best price for their memory. Eh? They will sell it where it pays best. Believe me, Victor; it is so." "Good," said Victor. "Listen; if there was a man--a brigand, a devil--an American!--who had extorted from Pico a grant--you comprehend--a grant, formal, and regular, and recorded--accepted of the Land Commission--and some one, eh?--even myself, should say to you it is all wrong, my friend, my brother--ah!" "From Pico?" asked Don Pedro. "_Si_, from Pico, in '47," responded Victor,--"a grant." Don Pedro rose, opened a secretary in the corner, and took out some badly-printed, yellowish blanks, with a seal in the right hand lower corner. "Custom House paper from Monterey," explained Don Pedro, "blank with Governor Pico's signature and rubric. Comprehendest thou, Victor, my friend? A second grant is simple enough!" Victor's eyes sparkled. "But two for the same land, my brother?"