problem to a greater. Both Santos and Gordon were in love with her.

In the whirl of this new discovery, two things alone crowded all else
from her mind. She must contrive to hold off Drummond until that part
of the expedition which was ready could be got off. And she must play
the jealous rivals against each other with such finesse as to keep them
separated.

Far into the night after she had left the Junta she debated the
question with herself. She could not turn back now. The attentions of
Gordon were offensive. Yet she could have given no other reason than
that she liked Santos the better. Yet what was Santos to her, after
all? Once she had let herself go too far. She must be careful in this
case. She must not allow this to be other than a business proposition.

The crisis for her came sooner than she had anticipated. It was the day
after the visit of Drummond. She was waiting at the Junta alone for
Santos when Gordon entered. She had dreaded just that. There was no
mistaking the man.

"Mrs. Dunlap," began Gordon bending down close over her.

She was almost trembling with emotion, and he saw it.

"You can read me like a book," he hurried on, mistaking her feelings.
"I can see that you know how much I think of you--how much I--"

"No, no," she implored. "Don't talk to me that way. Remember--there is
work to do. After it is over--then--"

"Work!" he scorned. "What is the whole of Central America to me
compared to you?"

"Captain Gordon!" she stood facing him. "You must not. Listen to me.
You do not know--I--please, please leave me. Let me think."

She did not dare accept him; she could not reject him. It seemed that
with an almost superhuman effort Gordon gripped himself. But he did not
go.

Constance was distracted, what if Santos with his fiery nature should
find Gordon talking to her alone? She must temporize.

"One week," she murmured. "When the _Arroyo_ sails--that night--I shall
give you my answer."

Gordon shot a peculiar glance at her--half doubt, half surprise. But
she was gone. As she hurried unexpectedly out of the Junta she fancied
she caught a glimpse of a familiar figure. It must have been Drummond.
Every move at the Junta was being watched.

At the boarding house all night she waited. She must see Santos. Plan
after plan whirled through her brain as the hours dragged.

It was not until almost morning that, seeing a light, he tapped
cautiously at her door.

"You were not at the Junta