ften. I
plied him with drink, striving to learn all that I could, hoping against
hope that there would be some way of befooling him and securing the
antidote without the poison.... And at last, when very drunken, he
laughed at me for my intention of marriage. He advised me tipsily to
serve The Master zealously and receive promotion in his service. Then,
he told me amusedly, I would not care for marriage. My fiancee would be
at my disposal without such formalities. In fact--while I stood rigid
with horror--he sent a command for her to attend him immediately. He
commanded me to go to an apartment in his dwelling. And soon--within
minutes, it seemed--the girl I loved came there to me...."

Bell did not move. This was no moment to interrupt. Ortiz's fixed and
cynical smile wavered and vanished. His voice was harsh.

"She was at my disposal, as an act of drunken friendship by the deputy
of The Master. She confessed to me, weeping, that she had been at the
disposal of the deputy himself. Of any other person he cared to divert
or amuse.... Oh! _Dios!_"

Ortiz stopped short and said, in forced calmness:

"That also was the night that my father died."

* * * * *

Silence fell. Bell sat very still. The Teutonic figure spoke quietly
after the clock had ticked for what seemed an interminable period.

"You didt know, then, that your father's death was arranged?"

Ortiz turned stiffly to look at him.

"Here," said the placid voice, quaintly sympathetic. "Look at these."

A hand extended a thick envelope. Ortiz took it, staring with wide,
distended eyes. The round shouldered figure stood up and seemed to
shake itself. The stoop of its shoulders straightened out. One of the
seemingly pudgy hands reached up and removed the thick spectacles. A
bushy gray eyebrow peeled off. A straggly beard was removed. The other
eyebrow.... Jamison nodded briefly to Bell, and turned to watch Ortiz.

And Ortiz was reading the contents of the envelope. His hands began to
shake violently. He rested them on the desk-top so that he could
continue to read. When he looked up his eyes were flaming.

"The real Herr Wiedkind," said Jamison dryly, "came up from Punta Arenas
with special instructions from The Master. You have talents, Senor
Ortiz, which The Master wished to use. Also you have considerable wealth
and the prestige of an honorable family. But you were afflicted with
ideas of honor and decency, which are disa