that noonday meal, I recall that he left
me for a moment. He had gone to Jetta.

"I am taking that young American to the mine. I will return presently.
Stay close, Jetta."

"Yes, Father."

He left with me. Jetta remained in her room, her thoughts upon the
coming night. She trembled at them. She would meet me again, this
evening in the moonlit garden....

The sound of a man walking the garden path aroused her from her
reverie. Then came a soft ingratiating voice:

"Jetta, _chica Mia_!"

It was Perona, standing by the pergola preening his effeminate
mustache.

"Jetta, little love bird, come out and talk to me."

Jetta slammed the window slide and sat quiet.

"Jetta, it is your Greko."

"Well do I know it," she muttered.

"Jetta!" He strode down the path and back. "Jetta." His voice began
rising into a strident, peevish anger.

"Jetta, are you in there? _Chica_, answer me."

No answer.

"Jetta, _por Dios_--" He fumed, then fell to pleading. "Are you in
there? Please, little love bird, answer your Greko. Are you in there?"

"Yes."

"Come out then. Come to Greko."

* * * * *

She said sweetly. "My father does not want me to talk to men. You know
that is so, Senor Perona."

It grounded him. "Why--"

"Is it not so?"

"Y-yes, but I am not--"

"A man?" Little imp! She relished impaling him upon the shafts of her
ridicule. Her sport was interrupted by the arrival of Spawn. He had
left me at the mine and come directly back home. Jetta heard his heavy
tread on the garden path, then his voice:

"Ah, Perona."

And Perona: "Jetta will not come out and talk to me." The waxen
mustached Minister of Nareda's Internal Affairs was like a sulky
child. But Spawn was unimpressed. Spawn said:

"Well, let her alone. We have more important things to engage us. I
have the American occupied at the mine. You heard from De Boer?"

"I went last night. All is ready as we planned. But Spawn, this fool
of an American, this Grant--"

"Hush! Not so loud, Perona!"

"I am telling you--!" Perona was excited. His voice rose shrilly, but
Spawn checked him.

"Shut up: you waste time. Tell me exactly the arrangements with De
Boer. _Le grand coup_! now; to-night most important of nights--and you
rant of your troubles with a girl!"

* * * * *

They were standing by the pergola, quite near Jetta's shaded window.
She crouched there, listening to them. None of t