t came hardly as a surprise to find a half-sheet of
notepaper tucked into her nightdress close to her heart. With fingers
that trembled slightly, Myra unfolded the note and read:

"Give me your heart and love, my wife, and I will devote my life to
you. If you have no love, show no mercy."

Myra read the words again and again, sorely puzzled to decide what
exactly they meant, wondering, incidentally, why Don Carlos had not
awakened her to whisper what he had to say instead of leaving a note on
her breast.

"Is he ashamed or afraid?" she asked herself--and could not answer her
own question, nor a score of other questions which she put to herself
as she tossed about restlessly for the remainder of the night, unable
to sleep.

Her aunt, in dressing-gown and slippers, came to her room while she was
sipping her early morning cup of tea.

"I hope you slept well, Myra dear, and are feeling better," she said.
"I have hardly slept at all, and feel a wreck. Have you made up your
mind what to do?"

"Not quite," Myra answered. "I must see Don Carlos first. But I think
I have decided to show no mercy to El Diablo Cojuelo."

"I don't know what you mean," commented her aunt. "For heaven's sake
be sensible, Myra. It isn't a question of showing mercy to the
brigand, but of saving yourself and your reputation. I shall be in
agonies of anxiety until you have made a decision."

"I shall be in agonies myself until I have decided--and perhaps
afterwards," replied Myra enigmatically. "I shall get up now and get
the ordeal over as quickly as possible."

She wasted no time over her toilet, and save that she was very pale,
she looked her usual lovely self as she left her room and walked
towards the staircase. She halted for a moment in indecision as she
saw Antony Standish on the landing, evidently waiting for her, then
went on.

"I say, Myra, don't cut me," exclaimed Standish appealingly, nervously
fingering his tie. "I've been waiting for you. I--I don't want to try
to excuse myself for what happened up in that cursed brigand's den. My
nerve deserted me completely."

"And you deserted me," interjected Myra coldly.

"You see, there was Don Carlos to be thought of as well as you,
and--and I thought the only hope of being any help was to get away,"
Standish went on lamely. "Myra, I beg of you not to expose me to the
world as a coward, and to forgive me. There are officials down below
waiting to question you about wha