I will make a statement ...

Elsewhere." And his laugh was not pleasant to the ear.
"A will--yes," he continued--and hearing the notary dip his pen-- "My name," he said, "is Francisco de Mogente." "Of ?" inquired the notary, writing.
"Of this city.

You cannot be a notary of Saragossa or you would know that." "I am not a notary of Saragossa--go on." "Of Saragossa and Santiago de Cuba.

And I have a great fortune to leave." One of the praying friars made a little involuntary movement.

The love of money perhaps hid itself beneath the brown hood of the mendicant.