ort-wave receiver. Bell began to
manipulate the dials feverishly. Two minutes. Three. Four.

The speaker suddenly began to whine softly and monotonously.

"Regeneration," said Bell feverishly, "on a carrier-wave. It can't be
far off, that receiving set."

Suddenly a voice spoke. It was blurred and guttural. Infinitely
delicate adjustments cleared it up. And then....

Bell listened eagerly, at first in triumph, then in amazement, and at
last in a grim satisfaction. Reports from Rio on a short-wave band of
radio frequencies were passing from Ribiera to some other place
apparently inland. It was Ribiera's own voice, which quivered with
rage as he reported Bell's escape.

"_I do not think_," he snapped in Portuguese, "_that full details
should be spoken even on beam wireless. I shall come to the_ fazenda
_to-morrow and communicate with The Master direct. In the meantime I
have warned all sub-deputies in Brazil. I urge that all deputies be
informed and instructed as The Master may direct._"

* * * * *

Another voice replied that The Master would be informed. In the
meantime the deputy for Brazil was notified.

This list of bits of information chilled Bell's blood. This man, of
Venezuela, had been denied the grace of The Master by the deputy in
Caracas. He would probably use the passwords and demand the grace of
The Master of sub-deputies in the State of Para. To be seized and
Caracas informed. The deputy in Colombia desired that the son of
Colonel Garcia--upon a hunting-party with friends in the Amazon
basin--should be attached to the service of The Master. His father had
been so attached, and it was believed had smuggled a letter into the
foreign mail warning his son. If possible, that letter should be
intercepted. And from Paraguay the deputy requested that the family of
Senor Gomez, visiting relatives in Rio, should be induced to regard
the service of The Master as desirable....

The orders ceased abruptly. Ribiera acknowledged them. The whining
whistle cut off. And Bell turned to Paula very grimly indeed.

"Pretty, isn't it?" he asked in a vast calmness. "Apparently every
nation on the continent has some devil like Ribiera in charge of the
administration of this fiendish poison. Every republic has some fiend
at work in it. And they're organized. My God! They're organized! The
Master seems to supply them with the mixture of poison and its
antidote, and they report to him...."