his hint that he might fall in love with her and
refuse to surrender her no matter how great the ransom offered.

Still smiling, Myra slid her bare feet into her bedroom slippers and
accompanied Mother Dolores back through the maze of crooked, rocky
passages to the outer apartment.

"Comer e heber e fumar, senorita," said Dolores, indicating a tray set
on a stool close by the electric heater. On the tray stood a steaming
jug of coffee, a flagon of cognac, a plate of biscuits, a cup and
saucer, and a silver cigarette-box.

"More magic!" commented Myra, as Dolores set a chair for her and poured
out a glass of cognac which she insisted upon Myra drinking at once.
Then she poured out coffee, gabbled something about the "bueno
maestro," and withdrew.

Left alone, Myra sipped the fragrant coffee and looked about her with
interest.

"This is certainly brigandage up to date!" she reflected. "I wonder
what manner of man El Diablo Cojuelo is?"

A minute or two later she heard a movement behind her and glanced over
her shoulder expecting to see Mother Dolores, but saw instead the
hooded figure of El Diablo Cojuelo. Instinctively, she drew her silken
dressing-gown closer around her and started to her feet.

"I am sorry if I startled you, senorita," said Cojuelo. "It is a
delightful surprise to find you like this."

"Dolores seemed to be insisting that I must come here for my coffee,"
explained Myra, recovering her composure.

"I instructed Madre Dolores to ask you to do me the honour of returning
here to have a talk with me before you retired, senorita, forgetting
that you do not understand much Spanish," responded Cojuelo. "I hardly
hoped to find you in neglige. You are a vision of beauty to ravish the
heart of any man, sweet lady."

"Thanks for the compliment, senor," said Myra coldly. "If I had
understood you wished to talk to me, I should not have prepared to
retire. Surely anything you have to say will keep until to-morrow.
Meanwhile, I shall be thankful for a cigarette."

"Pardon!" exclaimed Cojuelo, turning quickly to pick up the silver
cigarette-box from the table, and proffering it. "Your favourite
brand, you perceive. You will give El Diablo Cojuelo credit, I hope,
for making provision for your comfort."

"You certainly seem to be something of a magician," commented Myra, as
she helped herself to a cigarette and accepted a light. "Perhaps you
are in league with the Devil, and that is why you are