ou have preserved the ball that
was extracted from your wound?"

"I have," replied the Count, "at your request. What of it?"

"So long," said Herrera, "as no advantage could be gained from my
communication, I would not shock you with a statement that even now will
cause you serious pain. You remember, sir, that at the time of receiving
your wound you were at a very short distance from me, and that your
cousin was at a still less one from you, in your rear. As you advanced
towards the intervening stream, my eyes, conducted by chance, or
something better, fixed on your cousin, who at the moment drew a pistol
from his holster. You were but a few paces from him, when I saw him
deliberately--I could not be mistaken--deliberately vary his aim from
myself to you. The pistol was fired--you fell from your horse, struck by
his hand. You seem surprised. The deed was as inexplicable to me until
from your own lips I heard who the officer was--that there had been
serious disagreement between you--and that his temper was violent, and
character bad. Coupled with what my own eyes saw, the bullet itself, far
too small for a carbine ball, convinced me that it had proceeded from a
pistol. Instinctively, rather than from any anticipation of its being
hereafter useful, I requested you to preserve the ball, and to-day an
extraordinary chance enables me to verify my suspicions. Let the bullet
be now produced."

Astounded by what he heard, but still incredulous, the Count summoned
his attendant.

"Bring me the bullet that I bade you keep," said the Count.

"And desire my orderly," added Herrera, "to bring me the brace of
pistols he will find in my valise."

In a few moments both commands were obeyed. The bullet was of very small
calibre, and, not having encountered any bone, had preserved its
rotundity without even an indentation.

"Do you recognize these pistols?" said Herrera, showing the Count those
which he had taken from Baltasar's holsters. "This coronet and initials
proclaim them to have been once your own."

"They were so," replied the Count, taking one of them in his hand--"a
present to my cousin soon after he joined us. I remember them well; he
carried them on the day that I was wounded."

"Behold!" said Herrera, who placed the bullet in the muzzle of the
pistol, into the barrel of which it slid, fitting there exactly.
Shocked and confounded by this proof of his kinsman's villany, the Count
dropped the other pistol and rema