daughter silently followed, and all felt an unaccountable impression
of sadness, as if they had a presentiment of some coming calamity.
Torres stepped up to Joam Garral, who, with bowed head, seemed to be
lost in thought, and putting his hand on his shoulder, said, “Joam
Garral, may I have a few minutes’ conversation with you?”
Joam looked at Torres.
“Here?” he asked.
“No; in private.”
“Come, then.”
They went toward the house, entered it, and the door was shut on
them.
It would be difficult to depict what every one felt when Joam Garral
and Torres disappeared. What could there be in common between the
adventurer and the honest fazender of Iquitos? The menace of some
frightful misfortune seemed to hang over the whole family, and they
scarcely dared speak to each other.
“Manoel!” said Benito, seizing his friend’s arm, “whatever happens,
this man must leave us tomorrow at Manaos.”
“Yes!” it is imperative!” answered Manoel.
“And if through him some misfortune happens to my father–I shall
kill him!”
CHAPTER XX
BETWEEN THE TWO MEN
FOR A MOMENT, alone in the room, where none could see or hear them,
Joam Garral and Torres looked at each other without uttering a word.
Did the adventurer hesitate to speak? Did he suspect that Joam Garral
would only reply to his demands by a scornful silence?
Yes! Probably so. So Torres did not question him. At the outset of
the conversation he took the affirmative, and assumed the part of an
accuser.
“Joam,” he said, “your name is not Garral. Your name is Dacosta!”
At the guilty name which Torres thus gave him, Joam Garral could not
repress a slight shudder.
“You are Joam Dacosta,” continued Torres, “who, twenty-five years
ago, were a clerk in the governor-general’s office at Tijuco, and you
are the man who was sentenced to death in this affair of the robbery
and murder!”
No response from Joam Garral, whose strange tranquillity surprised
the adventurer. Had he made a mistake in accusing his host? No! For
Joam Garral made no start at the terrible accusations. Doubtless he
wanted to know to what Torres was coming.
“Joam Dacosta, I repeat! It was you whom they sought for this diamond
affair, whom they convicted of crime and sentenced to death, and it
was you who escaped from the prison at Villa Rica a few hours before
you should have been executed! Do you not answer?”
Rather a long silence followed this direct question which Torres
asked. Joam Garral, still calm, took a seat. His elbow rested on a
small table, and he looked fixedly at his accuser without bending his
head.
“Will you reply?” repeated Torres.
“What reply do you want from me?” said Joam quietly.
“A reply,” slowly answered Torres, “that will keep me from finding
out the chief of the police at Manaos, and saying to him, ‘A man is
there whose identity can easily be established, who can be recognized
even after twenty-five years’ absence, and this man was the
instigator of the diamond robbery at Tijuco. He was the accomplice of
the murderers of the soldiers of the escort; he is the man who
escaped from execution; he is Joam Garral, whose true name is Joam
Dacosta.'”
“And so, Torres,” said Joam Garral, “I shall have nothing to fear
from you if I give the answer you require?”
“Nothing, for neither you nor I will have any interest in talking
about the matter.”
“Neither you nor I?” asked Joam Garral. “It is not with money, then,
that your silence is to be bought?”
“No! No matter how much you offered me!”
“What do you want, then?”
“Joam Garral,” replied Torres, “here is my proposal. Do not be in a
hurry to reply by a formal refusal. Remember that you are in my
power.”
“What is this proposal?” asked Joam.
Torres hesitated for a moment.
The attitude of this guilty man, whose life he held in his hands, was
enough to astonish him. He had expected a stormy discussion and
prayers and tears. He had before him a man convicted of the most
heinous of crimes, and the man never flinched.
At length, crossing his arms, he said: