t such an early hour returning from the Walled
City, as though the classrooms had been closed, nor did he even note
the abstracted air of some of them, their whispered conversations,
or the mysterious signals exchanged among them. So it was that when
he reached San Juan de Dios and his friends asked him about the
conspiracy, he gave a start, remembering what Simoun had planned,
but which had miscarried, owing to the unexplained accident to the
jeweler. Terrified, he asked in a trembling voice, at the same time
endeavoring to feign ignorance, "Ah, yes, what conspiracy?"

"It's been discovered," replied one, "and it seems that many are
implicated in it."

With an effort Basilio controlled himself. "Many implicated?" he
echoed, trying to learn something from the looks of the others. "Who?"

"Students, a lot of students."

Basilio did not think it prudent to ask more, fearing that he would
give himself away, so on the pretext of visiting his patients he left
the group. One of the clinical professors met him and placing his hand
mysteriously on the youth's shoulder--the professor was a friend of
his--asked him in a low voice, "Were you at that supper last night?"

In his excited frame of mind Basilio thought the professor had
said _night before last_, which was the time of his interview with
Simoun. He tried to explain. "I assure you," he stammered, "that as
Capitan Tiago was worse--and besides I had to finish that book--"

"You did well not to attend it," said the professor. "But you're a
member of the students' association?"

"I pay my dues."

"Well then, a piece of advice: go home at once and destroy any papers
you have that may compromise you."

Basilio shrugged his shoulders--he had no papers, nothing more than
his clinical notes.

"Has Senor Simoun--"

"Simoun has nothing to do with the affair, thank God!" interrupted
the physician. "He was opportunely wounded by some unknown hand and
is now confined to his bed. No, other hands are concerned in this,
but hands no less terrible."

Basilio drew a breath of relief. Simoun was the only one who could
compromise him, although he thought of Cabesang Tales.

"Are there tulisanes--"

"No, man, nothing more than students."

Basilio recovered his serenity. "What has happened then?" he made
bold to ask.

"Seditious pasquinades have been found; didn't you know about them?"

"Where?"

"In the University."

"Nothing more than that?"

"Whew! What more do yo