Part 69

"We must wait for the authorities; he's been dead a long time," he said.

Little by little the women drew near.

"It's the new neighbor," they whispered. "See the scar on his face?"

In half an hour the authorities arrived.

"People are in a great hurry to die!" said the directorcillo, cocking his pen behind his ear, and he began his investigation.

Meanwhile a peasant wearing a great salakat on his head and having his neck muffled was examining the body and the cord. He noticed several evidences that the man was dead before he was hung. The curious countryman noticed also that the clothing seemed recently torn and was covered with dust.

"What are you looking at?" demanded the directorcillo, who had gathered all his evidence.

"I was looking, señor, to see if I knew him," stammered the man, half uncovering, in which he managed to lower his salakat even farther over his eyes.

"But didn't you hear that it is a certain José? You must be asleep!"

Everybody laughed. The confused countryman stammered something else and went away. When he had reached a safe distance, he took off his disguise and resumed the stature and gait of Elias.

XLIX.

VÆ VICTIS.

With threatening air the guards marched back and forth before the door of the town hall, menacing with the butt of their rifles intrepid small boys, who came and raised themselves on tiptoe to see through the gratings.

The court room had not the same appearance as the day of the discussion of the fête. The guards and the cuadrilleros spoke low; the alférez paced the room, looking angrily at the door from time to time. In a corner yawned Doña Consolacion, her steely eyes riveted on the door leading into the prison. The arm-chair under the picture of His Majesty was empty.

It was almost nine o'clock when the curate arrived.

"Well," said the alférez, "you haven't kept us waiting!"

"I did not wish to be here," said the curate, ignoring the tone of the alférez. "I am very nervous."

"I thought it best to wait for you," said the alférez. "We have eight here," he went on, pointing toward the door of the prison; "the one called Bruno died in the night. Are you ready to examine the two unknown prisoners?"

The curate sat down in the arm-chair.

"Let us go on," he said.

"Bring out the two in the cepo!" ordered the alférez in as terrible a voice as he could command. Then turning to the curate:

"We skipped two holes."

For the benefit of those not acquainted with the instruments of torture of the Philippines, we will say that the cepo, a form of stocks, is one of the most innocent; but by skipping enough holes, the position is made most trying. It is, however, a torture that can be long endured.

The jailor drew the bolt and opened the door. A sickening odor escaped, and a match lighted by one of the guards went out in the vitiated air; when it was possible to take in a candle, one could see dimly, from the rooms outside, the forms of men crouching or standing. The cepo was opened.

A dark figure came out between two soldiers; it was Társilo, the brother of Bruno. His torn clothing let his splendid muscles show. The other prisoner brought out was weeping and lamenting.

"What is your name?" the alférez demanded of Társilo.

"Társilo Alasigan."

"What did Don Crisóstomo promise you for attacking the convent?"