we are not in Chicago but in Hailey, Montana. You are not a bandit and this has nothing to do with the cinema.”
“I believe him,” said Cayetano softly. “Ya lo creo.”
“One can, with honor, denounce one’s assailant. Every one does it here, he says. He says what happens if after shooting you, this man shoots a woman or a child?”
“I am not married,” Cayetano said.
“He says any woman, any child.”
“The man is not crazy,” Cayetano said.
“He says you should denounce him,” Mr. Frazer finished.
“Thank you,” Cayetano said. “You are of the great translators. I speak English, but badly. I understand it all right. How did you break your leg?”
“A fall off a horse.”
“What bad luck. I am very sorry. Does it hurt much?”
“Not now. At first, yes.”
“Listen, amigo,” Cayetano began, “I am very weak. You will pardon me. Also I have much pain; enough pain. It is very possible that I die. Please get this policeman out of here because I am very tired.” He made as though to roll to one side; then held himself still.
“I told him everything exactly as you said and he said to tell you, truly, that he doesn’t know who shot him and that he is very weak and wishes you would question him later on,” Mr. Frazer said.
“He’ll probably be dead later on.”
“That’s quite possible.”
“That’s why I want to question him now.”
“Somebody shot him in the back, I tell you,” the interpreter said.
“Oh, for Chrisake,” the detective sergeant said, and put his notebook in his pocket.
Outside in the corridor the detective sergeant stood with the interpreter beside Mr. Frazer’s wheeled chair.
“I suppose you think somebody shot him in the back too?”
