ietly. "This letter, then,
is my authority to recover them?"

"Partly, though it refers to other matters. This Mr. Prince, whom you
Americans call Aladdin, was a friend of Dr. West; they were associated
in business, and he will probably have access to his papers. The rest
we must leave to you."

"I think you may," said Carroll, simply.

Maruja stretched out her hand. The young man bent over it respectfully
and moved towards the door.

She had expected him to make some protestation--perhaps even to claim
some reward. But the instinct which made him forbear even in thought
to take advantage of the duty laid upon him, which dominated even his
miserable passion for her, and made it subservient to his exaltation of
honor; this epaulet of the officer, and blood of the gentleman, this
simple possession of knighthood not laid on by perfunctory steel, but
springing from within--all this, I grieve to say, was partly
unintelligible to Maruja, and not entirely satisfactory. Since he had
entered the room they seemed to have changed their situations; he was
no longer the pleading lover that trembled at her feet. For one base
moment she thought it was the result of his knowledge of her mother's
weakness; but the next instant, meeting his clear glance, she colored
with shame. Yet she detained him vaguely a moment before the grated
door in the secure shadow of the arch. He might have kissed her there!
He did not.

In the gloomy stagnation of the great house, it was natural that he
should escape from it for a while, and the saddling of his horse for a
solitary ride attracted no attention. But it might have been noticed
that his manner had lost much of that nervous susceptibility and
anxiety which indicates a lover; and it was with a return of his
professional coolness and precision that he rode out of the patio as if
on parade. Erect, observant, and self-possessed, he felt himself "on
duty," and, putting spurs to his horse, cantered along the high-road,
finding an inexpressible relief in motion. He was doing something in
the interest of helplessness and of HER. He had no doubt of his right
to interfere. He did not bother himself with the rights of others.
Like all self-contained men, he had no plan of action, except what the
occasion might suggest.

He was more than two miles from La Mision Perdida, when his quick eye
was attracted by a saddle-blanket lying in the roadside ditch. A
recollection of the calamity of th