and it looked white."

"He was afraid, eh? He was a coward? This poor cheat of a creature
could not even be a brigand?"

"Afraid! Any one would be. As for myself, I gave my mule a cut and he
was off at a lope, with this fellow coming after as fast as his legs
could carry him, until he ran plump into the arms of the civil guard."

"Yes, yes. You have told all that. But this voice. You heard it
plainly?"

"Why, yes, although it sounded as if it came from a distance, or from
under a building, or--or--out of a tomb. I couldn't--I couldn't help
thinking it sounded like a man beneath a floor."

The attorney twisted his beard again impatiently, coughed, then tightly
folded his arms. He was silent for a little. Then, as if surprising
himself out of a revery, he commanded, "Well, well. Go on."

"This voice, senor," resumed the witness, leaning forward and speaking
mysteriously, "it was so hollow and low, and spoke the words so long,
like a creature dying and in pain, and it gave me a chill."

"Are you never to tell us what it said?"

"It moaned, 'For the sake of the Virgin, of Her Blessed Son, of the
Holy Saint Peter, of the Good God, pray for me. Pray for a sinner. Beg
the good fathers at Nuevitas to say a mass for the soul of Enrique
Carillo.' Then there was a sort of groan----"

"My God!" It was the prosecutor who had gasped the words.

"Yes, just like that. Ah! Pardon, senor. I did not see. You are ill."

For the lawyer's face had become of a deathly pallor, his head had
sunk forward, his lips trembled, his hands shook as they clutched
the edge of the table behind him. The idlers in the back of the room
were awake in a moment. The sun touched the figure of Christ, splashed
with blood in the fashion of the official crucifix, and it seemed to
look down on the scene below as in torture. The prisoner's counsel
sprang forward, placed a chair for his opponent and helped him to be
seated. An officer brought a glass of water, which the lawyer drank
eagerly, then sat as in a daze for an instant, shuddered, passed his
hands over his face, and said, "I ask the indulgence of the court. I
have lost my sleep for the last few nights. I--I----"

The senior judge had half-risen, his wig awry, his hands gripping
the arms of the chair. "Clear the court! It is the fever!" he cried.

There was a stampede of the unoccupied in the back of the room. The
others in the court reached for their hats and drew away, leaving the
prosecutor