tang of
adventure more than now. It was a keen pleasure to feel that she was
outwitting Drummond when, as some apparently insurmountable difficulty
arose, she would overcome it. More delicate was it, however, to
preserve the balance between Santos and Gordon. In fact it seemed that
the more she sought to avoid Gordon, the more jealously did he pursue
her. It was a tangled skein of romance and intrigue that Constance was
weaving.

At last all was ready. It was the night before the departure of Santos
for the south. Constance had decided on the last interview in her own
rooms where the first had been.

"I shall go ahead preparing as if to ship the things on the _Arroyo_,"
she said. "Let me know by the code the moment you are ready."

Santos was looking at her, oblivious of everything else.

He reached over and took her hand. She knew this was the moment against
which she had steeled herself.

"Come with me," he asked suddenly.

She could feel his breath, hotly, on her cheek.

It was the final struggle. If she let go of herself, all would be lost.

"No, Ramon," she said softly, but without withdrawing her hand. "It can
never be--listen."

It was terrific, to hold in check a nature such as his.

"I went into this scheme for--for money. I have it. We have raised
nearly forty thousand dollars. Twenty thousand you have given me as my
share."

She paused. He was paying no attention to her words. His whole self was
centered on her face.

"With me," she continued, half wearily withdrawing her hand as she
assumed the part she had decided on for herself, "with me, Ramon, love
is dead--dead. I have seen too much of the world. Nothing has any
fascination for me now except excitement, money--"

He gently leaned over and recovered the hand that she had withdrawn.
Quickly he raised it to his lips as he had done that first night.

"You are mine," he whispered, "not his."

She did not withdraw the hand this time.

"No--not his--nobody's."

For a moment the adventurers understood each other.

"Not his," he muttered fiercely as he threw his arms about her wildly,
passionately.

"Nobody's," she panted as she gave one answering caress, then struggled
from him.

She had conquered not only Ramon Santos but Constance Dunlap.

Early the next morning he was speeding southward over the clicking
rails.

Every energy must be bent toward keeping the new scheme secret until it
was carried out successfully. Not a hint must