“You will come with us, Senor,” Mariano Vercara e Hijos said. “Juan! Ignacio![46]” he ordered in Spanish. “Take his weapons. No, it will not be necessary to tie his hands. Put him on the horse behind Gregorio.[47]”
* * *
Francis found himself in a whitewashed cell[48] with walls five feet thick. The hour was half-past eight in the evening. The trial had begun at eight. He was scheduled at ten next morning to swing off into space supported from the ground by a rope around his neck. The trial had lasted half an hour by his watch. Leoncia burst in and prolonged it by the ten minutes.
* * *
The Jefe was right, “Francis acknowledged to himself Panama justice moves swiftly.”
The letter given him by Leoncia and addressed to Henry Morgan had damned him. The rest had been easy. Half a dozen witnesses identified him as the murderer. The Jefe Politico himself had so testified. Torres was in love with Leoncia, and his jealousy knew no limits.
Leoncia broke down, sobbing on his shoulder, in his arms: “It is a cursed country, a cursed country.”
And as Francis held her pliant form, he remembered Henry, in his canvas pants, bare-footed, under his floppy sombrero, digging holes in the sand of the Bull.
“They just knew I was guilty and were eager to punish me. Why delay? They knew Henry Morgan had knifed Alfaro. They knew I was Henry Morgan,” he said.
Deaf to his words, she was in his arms, against him, to him, her lips raised to his; and his own lips to hers. “I love you, I love you,” she whispered.
“No, no,” he denied what he most desired. “Henry and I are too alike. It is Henry you love, and I am not Henry.”
She drew Henry’s ring from her finger, and threw it on the floor. Francis slipped Henry’s ring back on her finger and kissed her hand in farewell. When she passed out the door she turned and with a whispered movement of the lips told him: “I love you.”
* * *
At ten o’clock Francis was brought to the gallows. All San Antonio was present, including Leoncia, Enrico Solano, and his five tall sons. In vain Leoncia’s father and brothers protested that Francis was not the man. The Jefe Politico smiled and ordered the execution to proceed.
Standing on the trap, Francis declined the ministrations of the priest, telling him that an innocent man needed no intercessions.
They had tied Francis’ legs, and were tying his arms, when the voice of a singer was heard. Henry Morgan was entering, thrusting aside the guards at the gate who tried to bar his way.[49]
The Jefe shrugged his shoulders and announced that he was ready to hang both men. And here arose contention from the Solano men that Henry was likewise innocent of the murder of Alfaro. But it was Francis, from the scaffold, who shouted:
“You cannot hang a man without trial! He must have his trial!”
And when Francis had descended from the scaffold, the Comisario, with the Jefe at his back, arrested Henry Morgan for the murder of Alfaro Solano.
“We must work quickly,” Francis said to the Solanos on the piazza of the Solano hacienda.
“We must save him!” Leoncia cried out.
“All Gringos look alike to the Jefe,” Francis said. She was splendidly beautiful and wonderful, he thought. “He’ll give Henry no more time than he gave us. We must get him out tonight.”
“Now listen,” Leoncia began again. “We Solanos cannot permit this… this execution. Our pride… our honor. We cannot permit it. Speak! Any of you. Father! Suggest something…”
