single moment she met me with a haughty
stare; then defiance faded away into pleading, and her glance wavered.
Whatever the cause, she was clearly afraid.

"Who--who are you?" she faltered. "Surely we have never met before?"

"As you know already, I am Geoffrey Benteen. I only regret that your
memory is so faulty."

"What is it you know of me?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing, Madame," and I threw into the utterance of these
words all the irony possible. "It is not altogether strange Madame
should forget acquaintances of other days, even her native tongue,
living so long in the wilderness."

It was a reckless shot, but somehow it struck the mark.

"I am a Toltec!" she cried wildly. "You speak to the Daughter of the
Sun."

"No doubt; 'tis a neat superstition with which to overawe savages, yet
there was one once across the water greatly resembling you,--a bit
younger, perhaps,--yet who was content then with a title not nearly so
high-sounding, until--oh, well, what need to tell the rest? Of course,
it was not you?"

I would never have believed so sudden a change could come over the
countenance of a human being, had I not witnessed it with these eyes.
She had sunk back against the couch, her hands pressing her breast as
if to still the wild throbbing of the heart, her great eyes staring at
me in silent horror. Twice her lips moved as if attempting speech, yet
no articulated sound issued from between them.

"Are you a fiend from hell?" she sobbed at last. "Why have you pursued
me here?"

"You do me far too great an honor." I made her a low bow, thoroughly
confident I held the whip hand, provided only I did not overplay my
part. "It is the merest accident of fate which has thus thrown me
again across your path. Nor have I the slightest desire to cause you
trouble, only that through your power may come our safety."

"You--you have not followed me, then?"

"No."

I saw she was diligently studying my face in the dim light, vainly
endeavoring to recall where, under what circumstances, we had met
before.

"Who are you?"

"Bah! what difference can a name make? Surely you are careless enough
about your own to be lenient with another choosing to forget."

"You also are a fugitive?" I caught the sudden ring of hope in her
voice, saw a new light flash into her eyes.

"I have fled the Spaniards," I answered carelessly enough. "What odds
is that, so long as what I did has been for France? Still, as I say, I