The
continuation was not quite as good as the beginning. Did he not detect a
slight undertone of irony or satire in the voice of Bernardo Galvez? But
neither Henry Ware nor Oliver Pollock moved a particle. The four looked
curiously from one to another of the actors in this tense scene.
"It was my object," resumed Bernardo Galvez, and now his tone had a
curious hard quality like steel, "to find the truth. Only in that way
could justice be done. Now I have to say that proof of these charges, not
conclusive, but incriminating nevertheless, has been found, and is in my
possession."
Alvarez leaped from his chair. He felt as if he had received a blow of a
hammer on his temple, but he cried out:
"It is not true! there can be no such proof!"
"It is true," said Bernardo Galvez sternly and accusingly, "because I hold
this evidence here in my hand. The war-maps which you are charged with
having, drawn by the one Wyatt, the friend of the Indians, and annotated
in your hand, are here."
He opened his palm and laid the strips of deerskin upon the table. Alvarez
staggered back and looked savagely at Braxton Wyatt.
"It is true," stammered the renegade in a whisper. "I was set upon last
night by Ware! He took me by surprise and robbed me of them! I could not
help it, but I was afraid to tell you then.
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