"Nothing of the sort," he replied. "The other man seemed simply to
have run out from somewhere and stabbed him with one thrust. I saw
it all but I was powerless to interfere."

"You saw the man who did it?" she asked.

"Only his arm," Arnold answered. "He kept his body twisted around
somehow. It was a blackguardly thing to do."

"It was horrible!" she murmured.

There was an interruption. The piece of tattered curtain which
concealed the portion of the room given over to Isaac, and which led
beyond to his sleeping chamber, was flung on one side. Isaac himself
stood there, his black eyes alight with anger.

"Liar!" he exclaimed. "Liars, both of you!"

They looked at him without speech, his interruption was so sudden,
so unexpected. The girl had forgotten his presence in the room;
Arnold had never been conscious of it.

"I tell you that Rosario was a robber of mankind," Isaac cried. "He
was one of those who feed upon the bones of the poor. His place was
in Hell and into Hell he has gone. Honor to the hand which started
him on his journey!"

"You go too far, Isaac," Arnold protested. "I never heard any
particular harm of the man except that he was immensely wealthy."