n
and waft its fragrance elsewhere? Why-- What was that?

The slight turning of a latch! The creaking of the French window of
the salon, and somebody had slipped softly half out on the balcony.
His heart stopped beating. From his position in the recess of his own
window, with his back to the partition of the salon, he could see
nothing. Yet he did not dare to move. For with the quickened senses
of a lover he felt the diffused and perfumed aura of HER presence, of
HER garments, of HER flesh, flow in upon him through the open window,
and possess his whole breathless being! It was SHE! Like him,
perhaps, longing to enjoy the perfect night--like him, perhaps,
thinking of--

"So you ar-range to get rid of me--ha! lik thees? To tur-rn me off
from your heels like a dog who have follow you--but without a
word--without a--a--thanks--without a 'ope! Ah!--we have ser-rved
you--me and my sister; we are the or-range dry--now we can go! Like
the old shoe, we are to be flung away! Good! But I am here again--you
see. I shall speak, and you shall hear-r."

Don Caesar's voice--alone with her! Paul gripped his chair and sat
upright.

"Stop! Stay where you are! How dared you return here?" It was
Yerba's voice, on the balcony, low and distinct.

"Shut the window! I shall speak with you what you will not the world
to hear."

"I prefer to keep where I am, since you have crept into this room like
a thief!"

"A thief! Good!" He broke out in Spanish, and, as if no longer
fearful of being overheard, had evidently drawn nearer to the window.
"A thief. Ha! muy bueno--but it is not I, you understand--I, Caesar
Briones, who am the thief! No! It is that swaggering espadachin--that
fanfarron of a Colonel Pendleton--that pattern of an official, Mr.
Hathaway--that most beautiful heiress of the Californias, Miss
ARGUELLO--that are thieves! Yes--of a NAME--Miss Arguello--of a NAME!
The name of Arguello!"

Paul rose to his feet.

"Ah, so! You start--you turn pale--you flash your eyes, senora, but
you think you have deceived me all these years. You think I did not
see your game at Rosario--yes, even when that foolish Castro muchacha
first put that idea in your head. Who furnished you the facts you
wanted? I--Mother of God! SUCH FACTS!--I, who knew the Arguello
pedigree--I, who know it was as impossible for you to be a daughter of
them as--what? let me think--as--as it is impossible for you to be the
wife of that bar