nte Gomez_? You tried to learn things from him, Senhor. He
reported it. Of course. All our slaves report. He sent his report to
my uncle, The Master, and I did not have it until to-day. I will admit
that you deceived me. I knew you had talked with Ortiz, who was a
fool. I thought that in his despair he might have spoken. I gave you
_yague_, as I thought, and informed my uncle that you knew nothing.
And he is very much pleased with you. It was clever to deceive me
about the _yague_. My uncle has high praise for you. He has told me
that he desires your services."

Bell inhaled again. There was no question but that Ribiera was totally
unafraid of the threat he had made. His gun must have been tampered
with, the firing-pin filed off perhaps. So Bell said placidly:

"Well? He desires my services?"

* * * * *

Ribiera chuckled, in his gross and horrible good humor.

"He will have them. Senhor. He will have them. When you observe your
hands writhing at the ends of your wrists, you will enter his service,
through me. Of course. And he will reward you richly. Money, much
money, such as I have. And slaves--such as I have. The Senhora...."

Ribiera looked at the terrified girl standing thirty or forty feet
away. He chuckled again.

"My uncle desires that you should be induced to enter his service of
your own will. So, Senhor, you shall see first what my uncle's service
offers. And later, when you know what pleasures you may some day
possess as my uncle's deputy in your own nation, why, then the fact
that your hands are writhing at the ends of your wrists will be merely
an added inducement to come to me. And I bear you no ill will for
deceiving me. You may go."

Bell rose.

"And still," he said dryly, "I suspect that you are deceived. But now
you deceive yourself."

He heard Ribiera chuckling as he walked away. He heard him call,
amusedly, "Senhora." He heard the little gasp of terror with which the
girl obeyed. He passed her, stumbling toward the gross fat man with
the light brown skin and curly hair. Her eyes were literally pools of
anguish.

* * * * *

Bell threw away his cigarette and began to fumble for another. He was
beginning to feel the first twinges of panic, and fought them down.
Ribiera had not lied. Bell had been at this _fazenda_ of his--which
was almost a miniature Versailles three hundred miles from Rio--for
two days. In all that time he h