ne away with the rest. There was none to
tell us anything. We never heard of it again and supposed it dead."

"And my child, sir priest?" cried Morgan. "What became of it?"

"I buried it in the same grave with its poor mother with the cross on
its breast. May God have mercy on their souls!"

"A pretty tale, indeed," sneered the buccaneer.

"It accounts in some measure for the situation," said the Viceroy, "but
I must have further proof."

"Patience, noble sir, and you shall have it. These crosses were of
cunning construction. They open to those who know the secret. There is
room in each for a small writing. Each maiden, so they told me, put
within her own cross her marriage lines. If this cross hath not been
tampered with it should bear within its recess the attestation of the
wedding of Francisco de Guzman and Isabella Zerega."

"The cross hath never left my person," said Alvarado, "since I can
remember."

"And I can bear testimony," said the Viceroy, "that he hath worn it
constantly since a child. Though it was large and heavy I had a
superstition that it should never leave his person. Know you the secret
of the cross?"

"I do, for it was shown me by the woman herself."

"Step nearer, Alvarado," said de Lara.

"Nay, sir," said the aged priest, as Alvarado came nearer him and made
to take the cross from his breast, "thou hast worn it ever there. Wear
it to the end. I can open it as thou standest."

He reached up to the carven cross depending from the breast of the young
man bending over him.

"A pretty story," sneered Morgan again, "but had I aught to wager, I'd
offer it with heavy odds that that cross holds the marriage lines of my
wife."

"Thou wouldst lose, sir, for see, gentlemen," cried the priest,
manipulating the crucifix with his long, slender fingers and finally
opening it, "the opening! And here is a bit of parchment! Read it, sir."

He handed it to the Viceroy. The old noble, lifting it to the light,
scanned the closely-written, faded lines on the tiny scrap of delicate
parchment.

"'Tis a certificate of marriage of----" He paused.

"Maria Zerega," said Morgan, triumphantly.

"Nay," answered the old man, and his triumph rung in his voice, "of
Isabella Zerega and Francisco de Guzman."

"Hell and fury!" shouted the buccaneer, "'tis a trick!"

"And signed by----"

He stopped again, peering at the faded, almost illegible signature.

"By whom, your Excellency?" interrupted the priest sm