"Now for the plan of Señor Saunders," says Perez, opening the bottom of his well-supported vest. He looked so respectable and ordinary sitting there, that my plan lost its light. I forgot the other side of him. "Well," I begun, lamely, "Saxton wants to marry Mary." Perez politely acknowledged that such was the fact. "Then," says I, "why don't he just do it?" Perez looked his disappointment. "That would be well, surely," says he in the tone one uses to a harmless fool. "Here," says I. "First, I want to break into Mr. Belknap. You say he's got some kind of political game on?" Perez renewed his interest. "_Si_," says he. "This is what he makes. He is now going to and fro, putting those that have come to his church against those of the old religion. Against the Catholic Church he lays the blame of everything wrong. It will be a revolution, he says, to annihilate that enemy of man, the old church, and in its place put that wonder of virtue, the church of Mr. Belknap. What _will_ happen is that many poor men shall be killed, and the wolf-rascals get fat, as usual. With Belknap are the few in earnest, who think; the many who neither care nor think, but are led; those that fight for love of it; those who are hypocrites, and those who look for profit. On our side, the same. There is no advantage to either by comparison in that. In here comes the difference. Such men as Oriñez and myself know that this unhappy land must have peace, before any notion of right can grow. When it is all fight, fight, fight, one cannot think evenly--has your brother been killed? Your wife and sisters murdered? And then you will think calmly of the issue? Time is needed to heal these old wounds, that more can work together. So Oriñez and I fight for time--I with my money and my counsel, he with the terror of his name. Once I did Oriñez a favor; he never forgets. So when I called to help me in this, the tiger sheathed his claws; the man of blood turned shepherd; the robber, honest; but,"--and here Perez's voice took a bitterness worse than curses,--"but Mr. Belknap, that respected man of God, will have it that the need of the State is the drawing of blood--once more, fire, slaughter, rape, till the land stinks with corpses, lays black in the sunlight and rings with the cries of injured women--a great work...." Perez stood up, gripping the table. "I am a little, peaceful man," he said, "but there are times when I could drive a knife through that man and shout with joy for every blow." He sat down quickly and smiled a faint smile. "_My_ obsession," said he, wiping his forehead; "I, too, preach peace through the letting of blood. Belknap may be as much in earnest as myself--Bah! This foolish pretense of candor! He is _not_; he is a scoundrel--whether he knows it or not, a scoundrel."