and the man never flinched.

At length, crossing his arms, he said:

"You have a daughter!--I like her--and I want to marry her!"

Apparently Joam Garral expected anything from such a man, and was as
quiet as before.

"And so," he said, "the worthy Torres is anxious to enter the family of
a murderer and a thief?"

"I am the sole judge of what it suits me to do," said Torres. "I wish to
be the son-in-law of Joam Garral, and I will."

"You ignore, then, that my daughter is going to marry Manoel Valdez?"

"You will break it off with Manoel Valdez!"

"And if my daughter declines?"

"If you tell her all, I have no doubt she would consent," was the
impudent answer.

"All?"

"All, if necessary. Between her own feelings and the honor of her family
and the life of her father she would not hesitate."

"You are a consummate scoundrel, Torres," quietly said Joam, whose
coolness never forsook him.

"A scoundrel and a murderer were made to understand each other."

At these words Joam Garral rose, advanced to the adventurer, and looking
him straight in the face, "Torres," he said, "if you wish to become one
of the family of Joam Dacosta, you ought to know that Joam Dacosta was
innocent of the crime for which he was condemned."

"Really!"

"And I add," replied Joam, "that you hold the proof of his innocence,
and are keeping it back to proclaim it on the day when you marry his
daughter."

"Fair play, Joam Garral," answered Torres, lowering his voice, "and
when you have heard me out, you will see if you dare refuse me your
daughter!"

"I am listening, Torres."

"Well," said the adventurer, half keeping back his words, as if he was
sorry to let them escape from his lips, "I know you are innocent! I know
it, for I know the true culprit, and I am in a position to prove your
innocence."

"And the unhappy man who committed the crime?"

"Is dead."

"Dead!" exclaimed Joam Garral; and the word made him turn pale, in spite
of himself, as if it had deprived him of all power of reinstatement.

"Dead," repeated Torres; "but this man, whom I knew a long time after
his crime, and without knowing that he was a convict, had written out at
length, in his own hand, the story of this affair of the diamonds, even
to the smallest details. Feeling his end approaching, he was seized with
remorse. He knew where Joam Dacosta had taken refuge, and under what
name the innocent man had again begun a new life. He knew that he was
rich