“I do not know what has been done in the business,” replied Monipodio, “but hear the artist who had the affair in hand, and I will answer for it he can give you good reason.” He then called Chiquiznaque to give an account of his commission.

“Is it of the merchant in the crossway?” asked the man of office.

“The same,” said the cavalier.

“Ah! I watched for him last night at the very door of his house,” rejoined the bravo, “and when he came I looked him full in the face, which I found to be so very small, that there was positively not space enough for the fourteen slashes that you ordered me to give him; therefore I could not complete your destruction.”

“My destruction!” echoed the cavalier crossing himself. “God forbid! My instructions, I suppose the gentleman means to say.”

“Yes,” said the unperturbed Chiquiznaque, “that is what I mean. But lest you should say I am not a man of honor, and have neglected my duty, I gave the required number of slashes on the face of his lackey, who, I warrant, can show the marks.”

“What use is that to me,” said the cavalier; “I had rather that the master had seven than the lackey fourteen; however, you will have no more than the money I left, and I will bid you a good morning.” Saying this, he took off his hat, and, bowing to the gentlemen, was about to leave, when Señor Monipodio caught him by the skirt. “Stay, sir, if you please,” said he, “and as we have acted honorably in this affair, we shall expect you will do so likewise; there are twenty ducats wanting, which we must have before you leave.”

“What do you call acting honorably?” said the cavalier. “Is it giving the punishment to the man that was intended for the master?”

“His honor forgets the proverb that says, ‘Love me, love my dog,”’ said Chiquiznaque. “And what the devil has that to do with the case?” asked the cavalier. “A great deal,” replied the other, “for the same rule reversed must be equally true; therefore, ‘Hate me, hate my dog,’ is applicable here, and our conditions are thus honorably fulfilled.”

“Come, your honor must not split straws with your servants,” observed the professor, “but take my advice, and pay what has been honestly earned; and if you are contented to give an order that can be executed on the master; it shall be punctually performed.”

“If you will do that,” said the cavalier, “I’ll pay it willingly.” “It shall be done as I am a Christian,” said the master. “I’ll engage that Chiquiznaque shall make both master and man so like each other, that they shall not be known apart.”

“Well, with this promise,” said the cavalier, “take this chain for the twenty ducats owing, and forty on account of the business you have in hand. It is worth a thousand reals; but I shall require no change, as I think I shall have occasion shortly to send you to another friend of mine on the same errand.” He then took a handsome gold chain from his neck, which was received with the utmost politeness by Monipodio, and Chiquiznaque promised on that very night to wait on the merchant. The cavalier went away very well contented; and the professor then called the members who were absent, and placing himself in the center, drew out his book of memorandums, and gave it to Rinconete to read aloud. The first part of the book was an account of the heavy business which had been paid for by their different employers, such as assassinations, slashing in the face with a poniard, maiming, etc. It began thus:

“Memorandum of the serious business for the week.

“First, The merchant of the crossway to receive fourteen cuts across the face—value fifty crowns—thirty received on account; to be executed by Chiquiznaque.” “That is all for this week in that line,” said Monipodio; “go