It was as if seeing me were a thing that he very much disliked--that he came because he wanted to satisfy himself of my existence, of my identity, and my being alone. The slow stare that he gave me did not mitigate the leisureliness of his entry. He walked behind the table; the judge rose with immense deference; with his eternal smile, and no word spoken, he motioned the judge to resume the examination; he stood looking at the clerk’s notes meditatively, the smile still round lips that had a nervous tremble, and eyes that had dark marks beneath them. He seemed as if he were still smiling just after having been violently shaken. The judge went on examining the _Lugareño_. “Do you know whence the señor came?” “Excellency, Excellency....” The man stuttered, his eyes on O’Brien’s face. “Nor how long he was in the town of Rio Medio?” the judge went on. O’Brien suddenly drooped towards his ear. “All those things are known, senor, my colleague,” he said, and began to whisper. The old judge showed signs of very naïve astonishment and joy. “Is it possible?” he exclaimed. “This man? He is very young to have committed such crimes.” The clerk hurriedly left the room. He returned with many papers. O’Brien, leaning over the judge’s shoulder, emphasized words with one finger. What new villainies could O’Brien be meditating? It wasn’t possibly the _Lugareño’s_ suggestion that I had lured men to murder Don Balthasar? Was it merely that I had infringed some law in carrying off Seraphina? The old judge said, “How lucky, Don Patricio! We may now satisfy the English admiral. What good fortune!” He suddenly sat straight in his chair; O’Brien behind him scrutinized my face--to see how I should bear what was coming. “What is your name?” the judge asked peremptorily. I said, “Juan--John Kemp. I am of noble English family; I am well enough known. Ask the Señor O’Brien.” On O’Brien’s shaken face the smile hardened. “I heard that in Rio Medio the senor was called... was called...” He paused and appealed to the _Lugareño_. “What was he called--the _capataz_ the man who led the picaroons?” The _Lugareño_ stammered, “Nikola... Nikola el Escoces, Señor Don Patricio.” “You hear?” O’Brien asked the judge. “This villager identifies the man.” “Undoubtedly--undoubtedly,” the _Juez_ said. “We need no more evidence.... You, Señor, have seen this villain in Rio Medio, this villager identifies him by name.” I said, “This is absurd. A hundred witnesses can say that I am John Kemp....” “That may be true,” the _Juez_ said dryly, and then to his clerk: “Write here, ‘John Kemp, of noble British family, called, on the scene of his crimes, Nikola el Escoces, otherwise El Demonio.’” I shrugged my shoulders. I did not, at the moment, realize to what this all tended.