ou, Senorita, I saw a light that I had never
seen in the eyes of this manacled brute. Then my guess was turned
to knowledge!"

"Then, Senor Reade," begged the girl, "who is this man who would
hold me back from my--"

"Tell her, sir," Tom urged the stranger.

"Child," said the latter, with wonderful gentleness and tenderness,
"I am the real Don Luis Montez--your father!"

"Then who is _he_?" cried Francesca, pointing to the handcuffed
Mexican, who had sunk upon a chair looking more dead than alive.

"His true name," said the stranger, "is Paulo Rabasco. He was
born of good family, but was always dissolute and criminal. Once
he was my friend, I am ashamed to say; at least, I believed myself
his. We traveled, once, in a part of Mexico in which we were
both strangers. While there Rabasco became engaged in a budding
revolution, that was quickly nipped by the central government.
In my efforts to shield my supposed friend from the consequences
of supposed rebellion, I myself became suspected. In the night
Rabasco stole my papers, putting his own in my pocket. When the
police came they searched us both. I was believed to be Rabasco,
and this scoundrel insisted that I was. The papers in our respective
pockets seemed to prove it. The papers in mine connected me with
the intended rebellion. A swift military trial, and within a
few hours I was on my way to serve a life sentence of imprisonment
in Yucatan.

"Rabasco, the self-asserted Don Luis, was turned loose. We looked
not unlike in those days. Rabasco, as I have since learned, grew
a beard. Then he went back to my home. My wife had died within
a few days. Most of the old servants had gone. Rabasco, the
unutterable scoundrel, set himself up as Don Luis Montez. He
imposed on the nurse, and took her away with my infant child whom
I had never seen after she was three months old. Rabasco went
to the United States as soon as he had established a flimsy title
to my modest property. In after years he returned, an older and
more successful impostor. Yet he feared to live on my estate,
dreading that some day his treachery might be discovered. So,
still calling himself Don Luis Montez, this scoundrel sold my
estate and took my child away to other parts of Mexico. My estate
was a modest one. On that foundation this fellow has been building
a larger fortune--but fate has overtaken him at last. There
are still friends of mine alive who will help me to unmask