“Ah, Ramon!” the old gentleman began, eagerly.  “Be seated and tell us quickly the latest news.  A terrible thing, was it not, this death of our good friend?  I have been to see his unfortunate widow, but even yet I cannot believe it to be true.”

“Yes.  A terrible thing!  It was only last night that we saw him well and happy.”

Although Alfarez was trembling with eagerness to tell his news, he also meant to extract the greatest possible satisfaction from it, and now bent an inquiring glance upon Gertrudis.  His look turned to one of malicious triumph as he saw that he was, indeed, the first to bring the tidings of Anthony’s arrest; for the girl’s acceptance of his suit had by no means wiped out the memory of her momentary preference for his rival, and he had hastened hither straight from the police barracks, delighting in the chance to make her suffer.

“So fine a man,” the father was saying.  “He was, indeed, my good friend.  It is shocking.”

“Yes, and to think he should have been killed in this cowardly manner!”

“Killed!  Is it believed that he was murdered?  Caramba!  I supposed he had shot himself.  That was the gossip an hour ago.”  Garavel was deeply affected, and motioned for the dishes in front of him to be removed.

Ramon nodded.  “There are suspicious circumstances, it seems.  Last night, after the ball, he had a serious quarrel—­one of those American fights, almost.  That much is known.”

Gertrudis, who had remained silent until now, her dark eyes clouded with distress, said, sympathetically: 

“And the poor lady!  She must suffer terribly.”

“Ah, perhaps!  One cannot always tell!” Ramon shrugged and smiled.

“What do you mean?” cried Garavel.  “This quarrel you speak of?  Continue, Ramon, I am consumed with eagerness.”

“Upon leaving the Tivoli last night, Senor Cortlan’ dined with six of his friends at the Central.  There was drinking.  The waiters have been questioned; also, one of the men who was present has recounted to me what occurred.  It seems that for a long time Senor Cortlan’ has been jealous of his wife.”

“Impossible!  Jealous?  My dear Ramon, an admirable lady.”

“I—­I shall leave you, perhaps?” questioned Gertrudis, modestly, as she rose, but Ramon exclaimed: 

“No, no!  By all means remain.  I have remarkable things to disclose, amazing news that will interest you.  There was a serious altercation, and Senor Cortlan’ openly accused his enemy before all the others.  It was most dramatic, it was terrible!  There was a scene of violence, the other man made threats.”

Garavel breathed an incredulous exclamation.

“Ah, but wait!  It was Senor Cortlan’s best friend, too, the man for whom he had accomplished many favors whom he accused.”  He noted with mingled anger and satisfaction the pallor that was creeping into the girl’s cheeks.  “You would never guess.  It was—­I hesitate, and yet you are bound to learn, my dear friends, it was this Ant’ony.”