r engrossed with
business cares: he was owner of the 'San Christobal' mine. I met him at
night, for my father liked him not and forbade me. It was my first
affair, and I thought I loved him." She laughed, a mirthless sibilance
that was marvelously like a snake's hissing, her eyes hard and dry.

"I had a brother, an only one, Rafael. He was very dear to me and loved
me greatly. He was, of the mine--what do you name it, the one who holds
and pays the monies? Ah, mil gracias! the 'treasurer.' He was of the
lively the liveliest and played much at the cards. And Don Bartholomew
was of his friends the most esteemed. We knew not then that he made his
living so: he had come to buy lands, he said, and he had letters, many
from great men; they were not written by those whose names they bore as
I know now, but we of Mejico know little of such things and trusted him
fully.

"Then, one night, mi padre discovered me in his arms and there was much
sorrow. I was to the casa confined and to him was said that we should
see him no more. But you know our adage: '_No ay cerradura si es de oro
la ganzua_' (there is no lock but that will open to a golden key), and
Pedro Rodriguez, our servidor, was very poor. Like Eve, I listened to
the serpent's voice; I was very young."

She covered her face with her hands and again the silence fell; Red
licked his lips nervously: "The damned caterpillar!" he ejaculated. She
roused at that and her manner changed. She seemed to speak mechanically
and her words fell like drops of ice:

"One night he came in great haste and said that we must fly at once; a
great trouble had come to him and his life was in peril. I had to marry
him, you understand, and I had no other choice. We went to the
magistrate--he swore that we would be remarried by a priest of my faith
when we reached his land, and so I consented. My father was absent and
my brother--Oh! Rafael!" She broke down and sobbed bitterly. Red cursed
aloud.

Of a sudden she calmed; her eyes were hot but her voice was cold and
emotionless. "Not until yesterday did I know that on that very night he
had robbed my brother at cards and treacherously shot him dead when his
guilt was discovered. My father, thinking I knew all--God, give me
vengeance on this man--died two weeks ago, cursing me with his last
breath. I had it from an old acquaintance whom I met here all
unexpectedly yesterday morn. They never answered my letters you know,
and I dared not return. Th