Captain San Benavides?" she asked, and her utterance was
unnaturally calm.

"I, mademoiselle," he said, "and, alas! I am alone. May I come in?
It is not well to show a light at this hour, seeing that the island is
overrun with infuriated soldiers."

The concluding sentence was addressed to Luisa Gomez in Portuguese.
Realizing instinctively that the man came as a friend, she stood aside,
trembling, on the verge of tears. He entered, and the door was closed
behind him. The yellow gleam of the lamp fell on his smart uniform,
and gilded the steel scabbard of his sword. In that dim interior the
signs of his three days' sojourn on Grand-pere were not in evidence,
and he had not been harmed during the struggle on the main road or in
the rush for the launch.

He doffed his rakish-looking kepi and bowed low before Iris. Perhaps
the white misery in her face touched him more deeply than he had
counted on. Be that as it may, a note of genuine sympathy vibrated in
his voice as he said:

"I am the only man who escaped, mademoiselle. The others? Well, it is
war, and war is a lottery."

"Do you mean that they have been killed, all killed?" she murmured with
a pitiful sob.

"I--I think so."

"You . . . think? Do you not know?"

He sighed. His hand sought an empty cigarette case. Such was the
correct military air, he fancied--to treat misfortunes rather as jests.
He frowned because the case was empty, but smiled at Iris.

"It is so hard, mademoiselle, when one speaks these things in a strange
tongue. Permit me to explain that which has arrived. We encountered a
picket, and surprised it. Having secured some weapons and
accouterments, we hastened to the quay, where was moored the little
steamship. Unhappily, she was crowded with soldiers. They fired, and
there was a short fight. I was knocked down, and, what do you call
it?--_etourdi_--while one might count ten. I rose, half blinded, and
what do I see? The vessel leaving the quay--full of men engaged in
combat, while, just beyond the point, a warship is signaling her
arrival. It was a Brazilian warship, mademoiselle. She showed two red
rockets followed by a white one. It was only a matter of minutes
before she met the little steamship. I tell you that it was bad luck,
that--a vile blow. I was angry, yes. I stamp my foot and say foolish
things. Then I run!"

Iris made no reply. She hid her face in her hands. She could frame no
more questions. San