e soaring greatly. Men who before made slighting remarks about him,
or opposed his administrative acts, were now often seen in earnest
converse with him. His manner toward Jose and Rosendo became that of
utter contempt. He often refused to notice the priest as they passed
in the streets.

Jose's apprehension waxed great. It attained its climax when Rosendo
came to him one day to discuss the Alcalde's conduct and the change of
sentiment which seemed to be stealing rapidly over the hearts of the
people of Simiti.

"Padre," said the old man in perplexity, "I cannot say what it is, but
Don Mario has some scheme in hand, and--and I do not think it is for
our good. I cannot get anything out of those with whom he talks so
continually, but Lazaro tells me that--_Bien_, that he learns that Don
Mario suspects you of--of not belonging to the Church party."

Jose smiled. Don Mario's suspicions about him had been many and
varied, especially as La Libertad mine had not been discovered. He
said as much to Rosendo in reply; and as he did so, he thought the old
man's face took on a queer and unwonted expression.

"But, Padre," continued Rosendo at length, "they say that Don Mario
has word from the Bishop that you once wrote a book against the Holy
Father--"

"Good God!" The words burst from the priest's lips like the sudden
issuance of pent steam. Rosendo stared at him in bewilderment.

"Rosendo!" gasped Jose. "How know you that?"

"_Caramba_, Padre! it is what Lazaro tells me," replied the old man,
his own suspicion verging upon conviction.

Jose's dark face became almost white, and his breath sobbed out in
gasps. A vague idea of the game Wenceslas was playing now stole
through his throbbing brain. That book, his Nemesis, his pursuing
Fate, had tracked him to this secluded corner of the earth, and in the
hands of the most unscrupulous politician of South America was being
used as a tool. But, precisely to what end, his wild thought did not
as yet disclose. Still, above the welter of it all, he saw clearly
that there must be no further delay on his part. Before he could
speak, however, Rosendo had resumed the conversation.

"Padre," he said, "had it occurred to you that you were watched, day
and night?"

"No--heavens!" Jose had not suspected such a thing.

"It is so, Padre. Don Mario's men keep you in sight during the day;
and at night there is always some one hovering near your house. You
could not escape now even if you