in the
direction she gave me, as soon as I heard the name of Simon Dubosc.
And you will understand also why, when I saw that she in her turn was
in danger, I rushed in pursuit of the man who was carrying her off."

"What then, captain?"

"Well, she returned, quite quietly, all alone on her horse. She had
thrown the Indian, whom my men picked up in the neighbourhood, rather
the worse for his fall. He says he knows you."

Simon briefly related the part which Antonio had played in the
tragedy.

"Good!" cried the officer. "The mystery is clearing up!"

"What mystery, captain?"

"Oh, something quite in keeping with all the horrors that have been
committed!"

He drew Simon to the wreck and down, the companion-ladder.

The wide gangway was littered with empty bags and baskets. All the
gold had disappeared. The doors of the cabins occupied by Rolleston
had been demolished. But, outside the last of these cabins and a
little before the cupboard into which Antonio had locked Rolleston on
the previous evening, Simon, by the light of an electric torch
switched on by the officer, saw a man's body hanging from the ceiling.
The knees had been bent back and fastened to keep the feet from
touching the floor.

"There's the wretched Rolleston," said the captain. "Obviously he has
got no more than his deserts. But, all the same. . . . Look closely.
. . ."

He threw the rays of the lamp over the upper part of the victim's
body. The face, covered with black clotted blood, was unrecognizable.
The drooping head displayed the most hideous wound: the skull was
stripped of its skin and hair.

"It was Antonio who did that," said Simon, remembering the Indian's
smile when he, Simon, had expressed the fear that the ruffians might
succeed in finding and releasing their chief. "After the fashion of
his ancestors, he has scalped the man whom he wished to punish. I
tell you, we're living in the midst of savagery."

A few minutes later, on leaving the wreck, they saw Antonio who was
talking to Dolores near the spot where the submarine strengthened the
former line of defence. Dolores was holding her horse by the bridle.
The Indian was making gestures and seemed to be greatly excited.

"She's going away," said the officer. "I've signed a safe-conduct for
her."

Simon crossed the arena and went up to her:

"You're going, Dolores?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"Where my horse chooses to take me . . . and as far as he can carry
me."

"Won't