Ere, however, I had reached the middle of the street of Alcalá, two fellows came up to me, and telling me that I was their prisoner, commanded me to follow them to the office of the _corregidor_. They were, in fact, _alguazils_, who, suspecting that I might enter or come out of the Embassy, had stationed themselves in the neighbourhood. I instantly turned round to Francisco, and told him in Basque to return to the Embassy, and to relate there to the secretary what had just occurred. The poor fellow set off like lightning, turning half round, however, to shake his fist, and to vent a Basque execration at the two _lapurrac_, as he called the _alguazils_.
They conducted me to the _gefatura_, or office of the _corregidor_, where they ushered me into a large room, and motioned me to sit down on a wooden bench. They then stationed themselves on each side of me. There were at least twenty people in the apartment beside ourselves, evidently from their appearance officials of the establishment. They were all well dressed, for the most part in the French fashion, in round hats, coats, and pantaloons, and yet they looked what in reality they were, Spanish _alguazils_, spies, and informers: and Gil Blas, could he have waked from his sleep of two centuries, would, notwithstanding the change of fashion, have had no difficulty in recognizing them. They glanced at me as they stood lounging about the room; then gathered themselves together in a circle and began conversing in whispers. I heard one of them say, “He understands the seven gypsy jargons.” { 134a} Then presently another, evidently from his language an Andalusian, said, “_Es muy diestro_, { 134b} and can ride a horse and dart a knife full as well as if he came from my own country.” Thereupon they all turned round and regarded me with a species of interest, evidently mingled with respect, which most assuredly they would not have exhibited had they conceived that I was merely an honest man bearing witness in a righteous cause.
I waited patiently on the bench at least one hour, expecting every moment to be summoned before my lord the _corregidor_. I suppose, however, that I was not deemed worthy of being permitted to see so exalted a personage, for at the end of that time, an elderly man—one, however, of the _alguazil_ genus—came into the room and advanced directly towards me. “Stand up,” said he. I obeyed. “What is your name?” he demanded. I told him. “Then,” he replied, exhibiting a paper which he held in his hand, “_señor_, it is the will of his excellency the _corregidor_, that you be forthwith sent to prison.”