Nostromo: A Tale of the Seaboard
"It is you, Mitchell," he said, emphatically, "who are the thief, not my soldiers." He pointed at his prisoner a forefinger with a long, almond-shaped nail. "Where is the silver of the San Tomé mine? I ask you Mitchell, where is the silver that was deposited in this custom-house? Answer me that! You stole it. You were a party to stealing it. It is stolen from the government. Aha! you think I do not know what I say, but I am up to your foreign tricks. It is gone, the silver. No? Gone in one of your lanchas, you miserable man. How dared you?"
This time he produced his effect. "How on earth could Sotillo know that?" thought Mitchell. His head, the only part of his body that could move, betrayed his surprise by a sudden jerk.
"Ha! you tremble!" Sotillo shouted suddenly. "It is a conspiracy. It is a crime against the state. Did you not know that the silver belongs to the republic till the government claims are satisfied? Where is it? Where have you hidden it, you miserable thief?"
At this question Captain Mitchell's sinking spirits revived. In whatever incomprehensible manner Sotillo had already got his information about the lighter, he had not captured it. That was clear. In his outraged heart Captain Mitchell had resolved that nothing would induce him to say a word while he remained so disgracefully bound, but his desire to help the escape of the silver made him depart from this resolution. His wits were very much at work. He detected in Sotillo a certain air of doubt, of irresolution. "That man," he said to himself, "is not certain of what he ad-
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