that the journalist wrote with them.

"You see, Quico?" said Camaroncocido. "One half of the people have
come because the friars told them not to, making it a kind of public
protest, and the other half because they say to themselves, 'Do the
friars object to it? Then it must be instructive!' Believe me, Quico,
your advertisements are a good thing but the pastoral was better,
even taking into consideration the fact that it was read by no one."

"Friend, do you believe," asked Tio Quico uneasily, "that on account
of the competition with Padre Salvi my business will in the future
be prohibited?"

"Maybe so, Quico, maybe so," replied the other, gazing at the
sky. "Money's getting scarce."

Tio Quico muttered some incoherent words: if the friars were going to
turn theatrical advertisers, he would become a friar. After bidding his
friend good-by, he moved away coughing and rattling his silver coins.

With his eternal indifference Camaroncocido continued to wander about
here and there with his crippled leg and sleepy looks. The arrival
of unfamiliar faces caught his attention, coming as they did from
different parts and signaling to one another with a wink or a cough. It
was the first time that he had ever seen these individuals on such
an occasion, he who knew all the faces and features in the city. Men
with dark faces, humped shoulders, uneasy and uncertain movements,
poorly disguised, as though they had for the first time put on sack
coats, slipped about among the shadows, shunning attention, instead
of getting in the front rows where they could see well.

"Detectives or thieves?" Camaroncocido asked himself and immediately
shrugged his shoulders. "But what is it to me?"

The lamp of a carriage that drove up lighted in passing a group of
four or five of these individuals talking with a man who appeared to
be an army officer.

"Detectives! It must be a new corps," he muttered with his shrug
of indifference. Soon, however, he noticed that the officer, after
speaking to two or three more groups, approached a carriage and seemed
to be talking vigorously with some person inside. Camaroncocido took
a few steps forward and without surprise thought that he recognized
the jeweler Simoun, while his sharp ears caught this short dialogue.

"The signal will be a gunshot!"

"Yes, sir."

"Don't worry--it's the General who is ordering it, but be careful about
saying so. If you follow my instructions, you'll get a promotion."