shall have passed over the border to
that unknown range from whence nobody ever returns. Enclosed you will
find the record of Don Felipe Ramirez's and Pepita Delaguerra's
marriage which, at Don Felipe's instigation, I stole from the register
in the church at Onava, giving him a copy of the same which he
destroyed, believing it to be the original. I did this with the
intention of extorting money from him later on. I and Joaquin Flores and
his wife were the only witnesses to the marriage. But there is a sequel.
Pepita gave birth to a child, a girl, after Felipe deserted her. I
learned later that Chiquita and the two Flores concealed it somewhere in
one of the Indian _pueblos_ near La Jara, as they feared Don Felipe
would make way with the child should he learn of its existence.'

"How strange!" exclaimed Bessie excitedly. "Why, that was Don Felipe's
own child which he introduced this evening and said was Chiquita's."

"Exactly," said Dick, quietly.

"But I don't see what all this has to do with me," she added.

"Proceed, please," he answered. "That's not the only surprise his letter
contains."

Glancing down at the sheets once more she resumed:

"'You will also be greatly surprised to learn that the young lady who
was present on the day you saved my life and whose name I asked, is my
sister.'

"The insinuation is infamous!" she cried, letting the papers fall to the
ground.

"Miss Van Ashton," he interrupted, calmly stooping and picking up the
papers and handing them to her again, "you forget--you are reading the
confession of a dying man."

"His sister!" she continued indignantly. "It can't be possible--I never
had a brother!"

"Please proceed, Miss Van Ashton," he replied. Amazed and bewildered,
Bessie excitedly resumed the reading of the strange letter.

"'My sister never knew me because I left home shortly after she was
born; but, notwithstanding, I recognized her the instant I set eyes on
her, not only owing to the presence of my father that day, but to the
remarkable resemblance she bears to my mother. She is the living image
of her.'" Bessie paused, overcome with agitation.

"How very remarkable," she said, as if to herself. "Every one who knew
my mother says we resemble one another very closely in manner as well as
in looks. My father always keeps our photographs placed side by side on
his desk at home. Except for the difference in the style of dress, it is
almost impossible to tell which is which.