were before Senor Ribero told his story."

"It would mean this much," he argued. "I should have followed to its
end every clew that was given me. I should have exhausted the
possibilities, and I could then with a clear conscience leave the rest
to destiny. I could go on feeling that I had a right to abandon the
past because I had questioned it as far as I knew."

She was resolute.

"I should," he urged, "feel that in letting you share the danger I had
at least tried to end it."

She raised her chin almost scornfully, and her eyes grew deeper.

"Do you think that danger can affect my love? Are we the sort of
people who have no eyes in our hearts, and no hearts in our eyes, who
live and marry and die, and never have a hint of loving as the gods
love? I want to love you that way--audaciously--taking every chance.
If the stars up there love, they love like that."

Some days later, Mrs. Horton again referred to her wish to make the
trip to Venezuela. To the man's astonishment, Duska appeared this time
more than half in favor of it, and spoke as though she might after all
reconsider her refusal to be her aunt's traveling companion. Later,
when they were alone, he questioned her, and she laughed with the
note of having a profound secret. At last, she explained.

"I am interested in South America now," she informed him. "I wasn't
before. I shouldn't think of letting you go there, but I guess I'm
safe in Puerto Frio, and I might settle your doubts myself. You see,"
she added judicially, "I'm the one person you can trust not to betray
your secret, and yet to find out all about this mysterious Mr.
Carter."

Saxon was frankly frightened. Unless she promised that she would do
nothing of the sort, he would himself go at once. He had waited in
deference to her wishes, but, if the thing were to be recognized as
deserving investigation at all, he must do it himself. He could not
protect himself behind her as his agent. She finally assented, yet
later Mrs. Horton once more referred to the idea of the trip as though
she expected Duska to accompany her.

Then it was that Saxon was driven back on strategy. The idea was one
that he found it hard to accept, yet he knew that he could never gain
her consent, and her suggestion proved that, though she would not
admit it, at heart she realized the necessity of a solution. The
hanging of his canvases for exhibition afforded an excuse for going to
New York. On his arrival there, he would