advocate, and that night took the
steamer to San Francisco.

The next morning Victor Garcia, a little the worse for the previous
night's dissipation, reeled into Wood's office. "I have fears for my
niece Carmen. She is with the enemy," he said thickly. "Look you at
this."

It was an anonymous letter (in Mrs. Plodgitt's own awkward fist)
advising him of the fact that his niece was bought by the enemy, and
cautioning him against her.

"Impossible," said the lawyer; "it was only last week she sent thee
$50."

Victor blushed, even through his ensanguined cheeks, and made an
impatient gesture with his hand.

"Besides," added the lawyer coolly, "she has been here to examine the
papers at thy request, and returned them of yesterday."

Victor gasped: "And-you-you-gave them to her?"

"Of course!"

"All? Even the application and the signature?"

"Certainly,--you sent her."

"Sent her? The devil's own daughter?" shrieked Garcia. "No! A hundred
million times, no! Quick, before it is too late. Give to me the papers."

Mr. Wood reproduced the file. Garcia ran over it with trembling fingers
until at last he clutched the fateful document. Not content with opening
it and glancing at its text and signature, he took it to the window.

"It is the same," he muttered with a sigh of relief.

"Of course it is," said Mr. Wood sharply. "The papers are all there.
You're a fool, Victor Garcia!"

And so he was. And, for the matter of that, so was Mr. Saponaceous Wood,
of counsel.

Meanwhile Miss De Haro returned to San Francisco and resumed her work. A
day or two later she was joined by her landlady. Mrs. P. had too large a
nature to permit an anonymous letter, written by her own hand, to stand
between her and her demeanor to her little lodger. So she coddled her
and flattered her and depicted in slightly exaggerated colors the grief
of Don Royal at her sudden departure. All of which Miss Carmen received
in a demure, kitten-like way, but still kept quietly at her work. In
due time Don Royal's order was completed; still she had leisure and
inclination enough to add certain touches to her ghastly sketch of the
crumbling furnace.

Nevertheless, as Don Royal did not return, through excess of business,
Mrs. Plodgitt turned an honest penny by letting his room, temporarily,
to two quiet Mexicans, who, but for a beastly habit of cigarrito smoking
which tainted the whole house, were fair enough lodgers. If they failed
in making the ac