to-morrow morning at seven by the clock."

"Strangled! Surely, señores, you will not commit so great an infamy? This
is a mere mockery of a trial. I have neither seen an indictment nor been
confronted by witnesses. Call this a sentence! I call it murder."

"If you do not moderate your language, prisoner, you will be strangled
to-night instead of to-morrow. Remove him, _capitan_"--to the officer of
police. "Let this be your warrant"--writing.

"Grant me at least one favor," I asked, smothering my indignation, and
trying to speak calmly. "I have fought and bled for Spain. Let me at least
die a soldier's death, and allow me before I die to see a priest."

"So you are a Christian!" returned the president, almost graciously. "I
thought all Englishmen were heretics. I think señores, we may grant Señor
Fortescue's request. Instead of being strangled, you shall be shot by a
firing party of the regiment of Cordova, and you may see a priest. We
would not have you die unshriven, and I will myself see that your body is
laid in consecrated ground. When would you like the priest to visit you?"

"This evening, señor president. There will not be much time to-morrow
morning."

"That is true. See to it, _capitan_. Tell them at the _carcel_ that Señor
Fortescue may see a priest in his own room this evening. _Adios señor!_"

And with that my three judges rose from their seats and bowed as politely
as if they were parting with an honored guest. Though this proceeding
struck me as being both ghastly and grotesque, I returned the greeting in