called himself, but I traced him back, Paris and Rome and Madrid
to Barcelona, where his ship came in in '86. They've been
looking for him all the time for their revenge, but it is only
now that they have begun to find him out."

"They discovered him a year ago," said Miss Burnet, who had sat
up and was now intently following the conversation. "Once
already his life has been attempted, but some evil spirit
shielded him. Now, again, it is the noble, chivalrous Garcia who
has fallen, while the monster goes safe. But another will come,
and yet another, until some day justice will be done; that is as
certain as the rise of to-morrow's sun." Her thin hands
clenched, and her worn face blanched with the passion of her
hatred.

"But how come you into this matter, Miss Burnet?" asked Holmes.
"How can an English lady join in such a murderous affair?"

"I join in it because there is no other way in the world by which
justice can be gained. What does the law of England care for the
rivers of blood shed years ago in San Pedro, or for the shipload
of treasure which this man has stolen? To you they are like
crimes committed in some other planet. But WE know. We have
learned the truth in sorrow and in suffering. To us there is no
fiend in hell like Juan Murillo, and no peace in life while his
victims still cry for vengeance."

"No doubt," said Holmes, "he was as you say. I have heard that he
was atrocious. But how are you affected?"