Nostromo: A Tale of the Seaboard
man suspended in his awful immobility, which seemed the uncomplaining immobility of attention, he asked, wondering gently:
"Why did Sotillo give the estrapade to this pitiful wretch? Do you know? No torture could have been worse than his fear. Killing I can understand. His anguish was intolerable to behold. But why should he torment him like this? He could tell no more."
"No. He could tell nothing more. Any sane man would have seen that. He had told him everything. But I tell you what it is, capataz; Sotillo would not believe what he was told. Not everything."
"What is it he would not believe? I cannot understand."
"I can, because I have seen the man. He refuses to believe that the treasure is lost."
"What?" the capataz cried out, in a discomposed tone.
"That startles you—eh?"
"Am I to understand, señor," Nostromo went on, in a deliberate and, as it were, watchful tone, "that Sotillo thinks the treasure has been saved by some means?"
"No! no! That would be impossible," said the doctor, with conviction; and Nostromo emitted a grunt in the dark. "That would be impossible. He thinks that the silver was no longer in the lighter when she was sunk. He has convinced himself that the whole show of getting it away to sea is a mere sham got up to deceive Gamacho and his Nationals, Pedrito Montero, Señor Fuentes, our new Géfé Politico, and himself, too. Only, he says, he is no such fool."
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