of all the graces and accomplishments of a young
woman of her class.

"But while yet in the flower of her beauty and youth, an American
adventurer, a soldier of fortune, appeared upon the scene. He had either
come by design or strayed there by mistake, probably the former; but
that, however, is immaterial. He happened to possess those first
requisites of the successful soldier of fortune--a charming personality,
a pretty wit, and a most ready address. In a very short time, the
hacienda and all that it contained were his. He captured not only the
daughter but the old don himself, and to him the latter confided the
source of the family's almost illimitable wealth, the source, but not
its location; and this source was a hidden mine, called oddly enough
'The Veiled Mariposa.'"

Penfield started as if he had been shot. "What did you say that name
was?" he cried, his ferret-face sharpened with eagerness.

"The Veiled Mariposa," repeated Hayden, watching him keenly, and
overjoyed at the success of his plan. It was evident that Horace knew
something. "Mariposa is the Spanish name for butterfly, you know."

"By Jove, what a coincidence!" muttered Penfield.

"A coincidence? How? What do you mean?" It was Robert's turn to be eager
now. "Have you heard of it? Have you?"

Penfield shook his head. "Not of it exactly, but--but--"

"But--but--" repeated Hayden impatiently. He felt injured and showed it.
"You evidently know something, but you won't tell me. Do you think that
is playing quite fair, Horace?"

"Bosh! I'm playing fair all right. I'll tell you fast enough when there's
anything to tell. What I have in mind may be the merest coincidence,
probably is. I want to do a bit of thinking first before I say anything.
But go on with your story. What has all this to do with you?"

"Where was I? Oh, yes." Hayden took up the thread of his narrative again.
"Well, the soldier of fortune married the don's lovely daughter with the
old father's entire approval. They had a great wedding, the festivities
lasting for days. Don Raimond bestowed bags and bags of gold and silver
on them, and they sailed away for France.

"Now, contrary to the customary fate of such unions, the marriage
although childless turned out happily. For the next ten years or so, the
American and his Spanish wife, his name by the way was Willoughby, lived
in great magnificence in the various capitals of Europe, maintaining an
almost royal state and entertaining co