he other.

Had I not witnessed the fact with my eyes, I should not have imagined
it possible that he could so lose his self-possession. I knew him to be
a man of strong emotions, but I had always believed him capable of
keeping them under iron control.

"We have been fooled, laughed at, betrayed!" he screamed. "The wretch
that holds the Recipe has been playing with us. 'Us' do I say? He might
have played with you and been forgiven. You are but tools; you do not
even belong to the inner brotherhood. But he has trifled with me; he
has dared to make sport of me--Taltavull--whose edicts have caused
thrones to totter, whose hand will soon sweep all thrones away. That
can never be forgiven. He cannot live and expiate that insult."

From one of his pockets the old man drew a revolver and held it up,
resting the barrel on a crooked arm, and aligning the sights at an
imaginary enemy.

"You two, my comrades, must help me in this just vengeance."

"Not much," said Haigh, peering at him coolly through half-shut eyes.
"I've put my name down for a little gentle highway robbery; but if
ordinary murder is to be added to the scheme, you may transfer me to
the retired list. I'm not burdened with many scruples, but making cold
meat of a gentleman for the small crime of sticking to his own property
happens to be one of them."

"And the woman who has helped him, and who has also put shame on us?"

"My dear fellow, you can't expect me to indulge in fisticuffs with a
lady--especially one with such a catholic taste in Majolica
lustreware."

Taltavull stamped and swore afresh. "And this insult--will your cold
northern blood permit you to swallow that unresented?"

"My swallowing power has its limits, Mr. Taltavull; so slow down.
There's an old adage about thieves quarrelling, and we three should do
best by not falling out with one another. Come, let's try back a bit.
What the devil is this eighteen-cornered insult you're so furious
about?"

Taltavull thrust the letter into his hand, and stalked away to the
window muttering in his beard.

I looked over Haigh's shoulder, and read with him:--

"FONDA FORGET-WHAT, ALCUDIA, MALLORCA,
"_Tuesday morning, 1.37 a.m._

"MOST WORTHY SENORES,--Once more let me write 'Hereingefallen,' and
if two of you fail to appreciate its delicate and subtle import, I
am sure that the polyglot Mr. Michael Cospatric will courteously
interpret.

"Your arrival here came to me,