"The one without water preferably--eh, Don Carlos?" he had
added in a tone between jest and earnest. This uncontrollable priest,
who had rejected his offer of the episcopal palace for a residence and
preferred to hang his shabby hammock amongst the rubble and spiders of
the sequestrated Dominican Convent, had taken into his head to advocate
an unconditional pardon for Hernandez the Robber! And this was not
enough; he seemed to have entered into communication with the most
audacious criminal the country had known for years. The Sulaco police
knew, of course, what was going on. Padre Corbelan had got hold of that
reckless Italian, the Capataz de Cargadores, the only man fit for such
an errand, and had sent a message through him. Father Corbelan had
studied in Rome, and could speak Italian. The Capataz was known to visit
the old Dominican Convent at night. An old woman who served the Grand
Vicar had heard the name of Hernandez pronounced; and only last Saturday
afternoon the Capataz had been observed galloping out of town. He did
not return for two days. The police would have laid the Italian by the
heels if it had not been for fear of the Cargadores, a turbulent body of
men, quite apt to raise a tumult.
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