Once the first excitement had abated and a messenger had been sent to town, Cueto drew Esteban aside and questioned him.

“A shocking tragedy and most peculiar,” said the overseer.  “Nothing could amaze me more.”

“Exactly!  And all because of her sleep-walking.  I’m all in a tremble.”

“She was asleep?  You are sure?”

“Have I not told you so?” Esteban was impatient.

“But it is said that people given to that peculiarity never come to grief.  They say some sixth sense guides them—­gives them warning of pitfalls and dangers.  I—­I can’t understand—­”

“That well was a menace to a waking person.  I didn’t realize how near to it she was; and when I cried out to her it seemed only to hasten her steps.”  The young man shuddered, for the horror of the thing was still in his mind.

“Tell me, how did you come to be there at such an hour, eh?”

Esteban saw the malevolent curiosity in Cueto’s face and started.  “I—­That is my affair.  Surely you don’t think—­”

“Come, come!  You can trust me.”  The overseer winked and smiled.

“I had business that took me there,” stiffly declared the younger man.

“Exactly!  And a profitable business it proved!” Cueto laughed openly now.  “Well, I don’t mind telling you, Dona Isabel’s death is no disappointment to any one.  Anybody could see—­”

“Stop!” Esteban was turning alternately red and white.  “You seem to imply something outrageous.”

“Now let us be sensible.  I understand you perfectly, my boy.  But an officer of the Guardia Civil may arrive at any moment and he will want to know how you came to be with your stepmother when she plunged into that trap.  So prepare yourself.  If only you had not given the alarm.  If only you had waited until morning.  But—­in the dead of night!  Alone!  He will think it queer.  Suppose, too, he learns that you and Dona Isabel quarreled the other day over money matters?”

Young Varona recovered himself quickly.  He was watching his inquisitor now with a faintly speculative frown.  When Cueto had finished, Esteban said: 

“Dona Isabel and I frequently quarreled over money matters, so there is nothing strange in that.  You would like me to confess to some black iniquity that would make us better friends, eh?  Well, it so happens that I was not alone to-night, but that another person saw the poor woman’s death and can bear me out in everything I say.  No, Pancho, you overreach yourself.  Now then”—­ Esteban was quick-tempered, and for years he had struggled against an instinctive distrust and dislike of the plantation manager—­ “remember that I have become the head of this house, and your employer.  You will do better to think of your own affairs than of mine.  Do you understand me?  I have long suspected that certain matters of yours need attention, and at the first opportunity I intend to have a careful reckoning with you.  I think you know I have a good head for figures.”  Turning his back upon the elder man, he walked away.