The tram continued on its way and I was burning with curiosity to know what had happened to the unfortunate Countess. Had her husband killed her? I understood how that villain's mind worked. Desirous of enjoying his revenge, like all cruel souls, he wanted his wife to be present, without pause in playing, at the death of that unwary young man brought there by a spiteful trick on the part of Mudarra. But the lady could not continue making desperate efforts to keep calm, knowing that Rafael had swallowed the poison. A tragic and horrifying scene I thought, more convinced than ever of the reality of that event—and now you'll say that such things only happen in novels!

On passing in front of Palacio the tram halted and a woman got on who was carrying a small dog in her arms. I immediately recognized the dog I had seen reclining at the feet of the Countess. This was the same dog with the same white and fine fur, the same black patch on one of his ears. As luck would have it the woman sat down next to me. Unable to resist being curious, I put the following question to her:

"Is this nice dog your dog?"

"Who else could he belong to? Do you like him?"

I fondled one of the ears of the intelligent animal to show him affection, but he, oblivious to my blandishments, jumped and put his paws on the knees of the English woman, who showed me her two teeth again as if wanting to bite me, and exclaimed:

"Oh! You are unsupportable!"

"And where did you acquire this dog?" I asked without taking notice of the latest explosion of righteous indignation on the part of the British lady. "Can you tell me?"

"My mistress gave it me."

"And what became of your mistress?" I asked most anxiously.

"Ah! Did you know her?" the woman replied.

"She was a good woman, wasn't she?"

"An excellent woman. But may I know how that bad business ended?"

"So you know about it, you've had news of it."

"Yes, madam. I know what happened, including the tea that was served. And tell me—did your mistress die?"

"Yes, sir. She's gone to a better place."

"And what happened? Was she murdered or did she die of fright?"

"What murder? What fright?" she said with a mocking expression. "You're not in the know after all. She ate something that disagreed with her that night and it harmed her. She had a fainting fit that lasted till dawn."

This one, I thought, knows nothing about the incident with the piano and the poison or doesn't want to make me think she does. Afterwards I said in a loud voice:

"So she died of food poisoning?"

"Yes, sir. I warned her not to eat those shellfish, but she took no notice of me."

"Shellfish, eh?" I said incredulously. "I know what really happened."

"Don't you believe me?"

"Yes. Yes," I replied, pretending to believe her. "And what about the Count, her husband, the one who pulled the dagger on her while she was playing the piano?"

The woman looked at me for a moment and then laughed in my face.

"You're laughing, are you? Don't you think I know what took place? You don't want to tell me what really happened. There'd be grounds for a criminal prosecution if you did."

"But you mentioned a count and a countess."

"Was not this dog's mistress the Countess wronged by the butler
Mudarra?"

The woman burst out laughing again so uproariously that I muttered to myself distractedly: She must be Mudarra's accomplice and naturally she'll hide as much as she can.

"You're mad," the unknown woman added.

"Lunatic, lunatic. I'm suffocated. Oh! My God!"

"I know everything. Come now. Don't hide it from me. Tell me what the Countess died of."

"For crying out loud, what countess?" exclaimed the woman, laughing even more loudly.

"Don't think you fool me with your laughter!" I replied. "The Countess was either poisoned or murdered. There's no doubt about it in my mind."

At this juncture the tram arrived at Pozas and I had reache............