ly. He
believed that an acquitted outlaw, if a gentleman, would stand a bottle.

"And as to the first charge," continued the president, "here is the
deposition of the Senorita d'Aumerle, which I have held till now for
this purpose. Read it, and you will note that though the marquesa bears
out the Senor Ney, she further testifies to the prisoner having later
saved her from this very Rodrigo Galan at peril to himself. Bien,
senores, have you any further questions?"

The Austrian crinkled his brow, and after a momentous pause, shook his
head till his cheeks rattled. The Dragoon promptly replied, "No, mi
coronel." Then the three withdrew, and when they came back, the Dragoon
wiping his lips, they informed the accused that he was not guilty.

"Which isn't news," said Driscoll as he thanked them.

Murguia's turn came next. The proof of the old man's guilt blossomed
almost of itself. Jacqueline, to clear her protector, had been forced to
depose how Murguia had willingly betrayed her into Rodrigo's hands. But
she described the old man's reluctance. He would have saved her, except
for his terror of the outlaw. The sole case for the defence was
Murguia's character for stinginess; such a miser could not be accused of
aiding the guerrillas. But this very point seemed to heighten Lopez's
prejudice against him. Driscoll, being held to testify, only talked
sociably, and told nothing, and when under the quizzing he finally lost
patience, he said, "Oh, let him go! What's the use?"

But they were so far from any such thing that they condemned him to be
shot.

Then a voice was heard at the door. The sentinel there stumbled back,
and Don Tiburcio brushed by him into the room.

"Old man," he called, "come with me! Your daughter----"

Murguia started up, weakly swaying. The senile eyeballs, so lately
parched by fear, swam in a moisture not of avarice. Someone was speaking
to him of his daughter. He had not seen her yet. They would not let him.
And now he must think of her in this new connection, which was his
death. And her misery to learn it, and her misery, afterward! On the
morrow they would be taking him to the capital, his sentence would be
confirmed, he would be shot. Nothing of this he doubted. And he would
never see her again.

Murguia stretched out his arms toward the president of the court, "You
will let me go to her, senor? Your Mercy will let me go to her?" He
murmured her name over and over, "Maria de la Luz! Maria--Lu