Joseph Conrad: Nostromo

PART THIRD: THE LIGHTHOUSE 2. CHAPTER TWO (continued)

This time he produced his effect. "How on earth could Sotillo
know that?" thought Mitchell. His head, the only part of his body
that could move, betrayed his surprise by a sudden jerk.

"Ha! you tremble," Sotillo shouted, suddenly. "It is a
conspiracy. It is a crime against the State. Did you not know
that the silver belongs to the Republic till the Government
claims are satisfied? Where is it? Where have you hidden it, you
miserable thief?"

At this question Captain Mitchell's sinking spirits revived. In
whatever incomprehensible manner Sotillo had already got his
information about the lighter, he had not captured it. That was
clear. In his outraged heart, Captain Mitchell had resolved that
nothing would induce him to say a word while he remained so
disgracefully bound, but his desire to help the escape of the
silver made him depart from this resolution. His wits were very
much at work. He detected in Sotillo a certain air of doubt, of
irresolution.

"That man," he said to himself, "is not certain of what he
advances." For all his pomposity in social intercourse, Captain
Mitchell could meet the realities of life in a resolute and ready
spirit. Now he had got over the first shock of the abominable
treatment he was cool and collected enough. The immense contempt
he felt for Sotillo steadied him, and he said oracularly, "No
doubt it is well concealed by this time."

Sotillo, too, had time to cool down. "Muy bien, Mitchell," he
said in a cold and threatening manner. "But can you produce the
Government receipt for the royalty and the Custom House permit of
embarkation, hey? Can you? No. Then the silver has been removed
illegally, and the guilty shall be made to suffer, unless it is
produced within five days from this." He gave orders for the
prisoner to be unbound and locked up in one of the smaller rooms
downstairs. He walked about the room, moody and silent, till
Captain Mitchell, with each of his arms held by a couple of men,
stood up, shook himself, and stamped his feet.

"How did you like to be tied up, Mitchell?" he asked, derisively.