When Greg came to the end Estuban said thoughtfully: "The man de Silva arrived in Managuay a few days before I was arrested. He claimed to be the representative of a New York trading house, and was provided with seemingly authentic credentials. He had lived long enough in the United States to imbibe liberal ideas it was thought, and we hoped to secure in him a recruit to our side. No connection between him and the de Socotra gang had appeared. When I was separated from Señor Bareda I suppose he naturally turned to this man; he had to have an interpreter. Even under the conditions that surrounded us my poor master was always too slow to suspect evil. It was I who was accustomed to protect him from his own innocence of heart." "And now we know," added Greg, "that de Silva was sent down from New York especially for the purpose of worming himself into Señor Bareda's confidence." "Now I'll tell you what was in the little black book," said Estuban. Greg looked at his watch. "Hold on!" he said. "It's past one. De Socotra might possibly return here. His room is adjoining. We had better go down to my own room where there is no danger of being disturbed. In any case I have to be there at two to receive a report over the telephone." In the little hall-room at Bessie Bickle's Estuban, white-faced and grim, told his tale. There was no sign of weakness in him now. He referred to his murdered friend calmly. He said: "First I must try to make you understand the situation in Managuay that produced this crime. It may be difficult for a free American to credit, though it is simple enough. You must bear in mind that Managuay is a very small country, a sort of small-town republic, and quite outside the currents of the world's thought; indeed for Managuayans the outside world hardly exists. In other countries, even the most backward, of late years a social conscience has developed, but in Managuay no! Our overlords are still as rapacious as feudal barons. We have no prosperous middle class to act as a balance wheel. In Managuay there is nothing between the old Spanish aristocracy and the miserable peons. "Up to a dozen years ago Managuay was a poor country; the old landholders were impoverished, and they had no business acumen; trade passed by our ports. Then American business men began to find us; they had the business ability and the Managuayans had the rich land. Gradually there grew up the infamous association that has almost ruined my country. "The trouble was, the land was too rich. Under improved methods of cultivation and with the markets made accessible, great fortunes were reaped from rubber, coffee, fruit in a single season. Too easily made money atrophies men's moral sense; they become filled with a lust for more! more! more!