eringly. "Yes, senor. Why?"

"Oh, nothing--nothing. It is the custom to--to shoot ex-priests down
here, eh?"

"_Caramba!_ No! But this man--senor, why do you ask?"

"Well--it struck me as curious--that's all," returned Hitt, at a loss
for a suitable answer. "You didn't happen to know these men, I
presume?"

"_Na_, _senor_, you seek to involve me. Who are you, that you ask such
questions of a stranger?" The man reflected the suspicious caution of
these troublous times.

"Why, _amigo_, it is of no concern to me," replied Hitt easily,
flicking the ashes from his cigar. "I once knew a fellow by that name.
Met him here years ago. Learned that he afterward went to Simiti. But
I--"

"Senor!" cried the man, starting up. "Are you the _Americano_, the man
who explored?"

"I am," said Hitt, bending closer to him. "And we are well met, for
you are Don Jorge, who knew Padre Jose de Rincon in Simiti, no?"

The man cast a timid glance around the room. "Senor," he whispered,
"we must not say these things here! I leave you now--"

"Not yet!" Hitt laid a hand upon his. "Where is he?" he demanded in a
low voice.

"In San Fernando, senor."

"And how long?"

"A year, I think. He was first three years in the prison in Cartagena.
But the Bish--"

"Eh? Don Wenceslas had him removed to San Fernando?"

The man nodded.

"And--"

"He will be shot to-morrow, senor."

Hitt thought with desperate rapidity. Then he looked up. "Why do you
say he is an ex-priest?" he asked.

"He has just been excommunicated," replied the man. "Cursed, they say,
by bell, book, and candle."

"Good heavens! That he might be shot? Ah, I see it all! Ames's
message! Of course Don Wenceslas would not dare to execute a priest in
good standing. And so he had him excommunicated, eh?"

Don Jorge shrugged his shoulders. "_Quien sabe?_" he muttered.

Hitt sat for a while in a deep study. Time was precious. And yet it
was flying like the winds. Then he roused up.

"You knew a little girl--in Simiti--in whom this Rincon was
interested?"

"Ah, yes, senor. But--why do you ask? She went to the great States
from which you come. And I think little was heard from her after
that."

"Eh? Yes, true. She lived with--"

"Don Rosendo Ariza."

"Yes. And he?"

"Dead--he and his good wife, Dona Maria."

Hitt's head sank. How could he break this to Carmen? Then he sprang to
his feet. "Come," he said, "we will stroll down by the walls. I would
like a look at S