In the morning, when we were already at the dock in Cienaga, my grandfather stood shaving with his straight razor, the door open and the mirror hanging from the frame.
In a couple of minutes, when they were able to talk again, they began to yellow me and said that if I'd done something that stupid, I was going to have to be responsible for.
I was answered that He was already able to speak, though with difficulty: Don Gaston's curiosity made him press me to interrogate the Assassin in his presence, but this curiosity I was by no means inclined to gratify.