the document exists.”
“If it does not exist,” answered Joam Dacosta, in a penetrating
voice, “in trusting to the justice of men, I must put my trust only
in God!”
At these words Judge Jarriquez rose, and, in not quite such an
indifferent tone, said, “Joam Dacosta, in examining you here, in
allowing you to relate the particulars of your past life and to
protest your innocence, I have gone further than my instructions
allow me. An information has already been laid in this affair, and
you have appeared before the jury at Villa Rica, whose verdict was
given unanimously, and without even the addition of extenuating
circumstances. You have been found guilty of the instigation of, and
complicity in, the murder of the soldiers and the robbery of the
diamonds at Tijuco, the capital sentence was pronounced on you, and
it was only by flight that you escaped execution. But that you came
here to deliver yourself over, or not, to the hands of justice
twenty-three years afterward, you would never have been retaken. For
the last time, you admit that you are Joam Dacosta, the condemned man
of the diamond arrayal?”
“I am Joam Dacosta.”
“You are ready to sign this declaration?”
“I am ready.”
And with a hand without a tremble Joam Dacosta put his name to the
foot of the declaration and the report which Judge Jarriquez had made
his clerk draw up.
“The report, addressed to the minister of justice, is to be sent off
to Rio Janeiro,” said the magistrate. “Many days will elapse before
we receive orders to carry out your sentence. If then, as you say,
Torres possesses the proof of your innocence, do all you can
yourself–do all you can through your friends–do everything, so that
that proof can be produced in time. Once the order arrives no delay
will be possible, and justice must take its course.”
Joam Dacosta bowed slightly.
“Shall I be allowed in the meantime to see my wife and children?” he
asked.
“After to-day, if you wish,” answered Judge Jarriquez; “you are no
longer in close confinement, and they can be brought to you as soon
as they apply.”
The magistrate then rang the bell. The guards entered the room, and
took away Joam Dacosta.
Judge Jarriquez watched him as he went out, and shook his head and
muttered:
“Well, well! This is a much stranger affair than I ever thought it
would be!”
CHAPTER VI
THE LAST BLOW
WHILE JOAM DACOSTA was undergoing this examination, Yaquita, from an
inquiry made by Manoel, ascertained that she and her children would
be permitted to see the prisoner that very day about four o’clock in
the afternoon.
Yaquita had not left her room since the evening before. Minha and
Lina kept near her, waiting for the time when she would be admitted
to see her husband.
Yaquita Garral or Yaquita Dacosta, he would still find her the
devoted wife and brave companion he had ever known her to be.
About eleven o’clock in the morning Benito joined Manoel and Fragoso,
who were talking in the bow of the jangada.
“Manoel,” said he, “I have a favor to ask you.”
“What is it?”
“And you too, Fragoso.”
“I am at your service, Mr. Benito,” answered the barber.
“What is the matter?” asked Manoel, looking at his friend, whose
expression was that of a man who had come to some unalterable
resolution.
“You never doubt my father’s innocence? Is that so?” said Benito.
“Ah!” exclaimed Fragoso. “Rather I think it was I who committed the
crime.”
“Well, we must now commence on the project I thought of yesterday.”
“To find out Torres?” asked Manoel.
“Yes, and know from him how he found out my father’s retreat. There
is something inexplicable about it. Did he know it before? I cannot
understand it, for my father never left Iquitos for more than twenty
years, and this scoundrel is hardly thirty! But the day will not
close before I know it; or, woe to Torres!”
Benito’s resolution admitted of no discussion; and besides, neither
Manoel nor Fragoso had the slightest thought of dissuading him.
“I will ask, then,” continued Benito, “for both of you to accompany