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From face to face and speaker to speaker his eyes would turn, boring like gimlets of incandescent ice, disconcerting and perturbing. "He is no spy," Vera confided to May Sethby. "He is a patriot mark me, the greatest patriot of us all. I know it, I feel it, here in my heart and head I feel it. But him I know not at all." "He has a bad temper," said May Sethby. "I know," said Vera, with a shudder.
Arrellano wailed the spendthriftness of his youth. May Sethby wondered if it would have been different had they of the Junta been more economical in the past. "To think that the freedom of Mexico should stand or fall on a few paltry thousands of dollars," said Paulino Vera. Despair was in all their faces.
"Only to-day, just now, have I learned that he paid the bill for white paper one hundred and forty dollars." "There are his absences," said May Sethby. "He never explains them." "We should set a spy upon him," Ramos propounded. "I should not care to be that spy," said Vera. "I fear you would never see me again, save to bury me. He has a terrible passion.
Big dashing Paulino Vera felt an inward shudder. Here was something forbidding, terrible, inscrutable. There was something venomous and snakelike in the boy's black eyes. They burned like cold fire, as with a vast, concentrated bitterness. He flashed them from the faces of the conspirators to the typewriter which little Mrs. Sethby was industriously operating.
He repelled all probing. Youth that he was, they could never nerve themselves to dare to question him. "A great and lonely spirit, perhaps, I do not know, I do not know," Arrellano said helplessly. "He is not human," said Ramos. "His soul has been seared," said May Sethby. "Light and laughter have been burned out of him. He is like one dead, and yet he is fearfully alive."
"He is the flame and the spirit of it, the insatiable cry for vengeance that makes no cry but that slays noiselessly. He is a destroying angel in moving through the still watches of the night." "I could weep over him," said May Sethby. "He knows nobody. He hates all people. Us he tolerates, for we are the way of his desire. He is alone.... lonely."
"Diaz has more to fear from this youth than from any man. He is implacable. He is the hand of God." The bad temper, mentioned by May Sethby, and sensed by them all, was evidenced by physical proofs. Now he appeared with a cut lip, a blackened cheek, or a swollen ear.
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