to-night," he remarked.

There was something of jealousy in the tone.

"No. There is something I wanted to say to you where we should not be
interrupted," she answered as he sat down.

A fold of her filmy house dress fluttered near him. Involuntarily he
moved closer. His eyes met hers. She could feel the passions surging in
the man beside her.

"I saw Drummond again, to-day," she began. "Captain Gordon--"

The intense look of hatred that blazed in the eyes of Santos frightened
her. What might have happened if he instead of Gordon had met her at
the Junta she could not have said. But now she must guard against it.
It flashed over her that there was only one thing to be done.

She rose and laid her hand on his arm. As quickly the look changed.
There was only one way to do it; she must make this man think they
understood each other without saying so.

"You must get the counterfeiting plant down on the
island--immediately--alone. Don't tell any of the others until it is
there safely. You were going to send it down on the _Arroyo_ next week.
It must not go from New York at all. It must be shipped by rail, and
then from New Orleans. You must--"

"But--Gordon?" His voice was hoarse.

She looked at Santos long and earnestly. "I will take care of him," she
said in a tone that Santos could not mistake. "No--Ramon, no. After the
revolution--perhaps--who shall say? But now--to work!"

It was with a sigh of relief that she sank to rest at last when he had
gone. For the moment she had won.

Piece by piece, Santos and she secretly carried out the goods that had
already been collected at the Junta, during the next few days. Without
a word to a soul they were shipped south. The boxes and barrels
remained in the musty shop, apparently undisturbed.

Next the order for the arms and ammunition was quietly diverted so that
they, too, were on their way to New Orleans. Instead, cases resembling
them were sent to the Junta headquarters. Drummond, least of all, must
be allowed to think that there was any change in their plans.

While Santos was at work gathering the parts, the stamping machine, the
press, the dies, the plates, and the rest of the counterfeiting plant
which had not yet been delivered, Constance, during the hours that she
was not collecting money from the concession-grabbers, haunted the
Junta. There was every evidence of activity there as the week advanced.

She was between two fires, yet never had she enjoyed the