I should discover the owner of this weapon. By doing so I may be able
to bring a murderer to meet his doom, and avenge the death of my best
friend!"

Miriam gazed at him compassionately, a serious light in her dark eyes.

"I will help you," she said suddenly, moved as it were by a strange
impulse; "I have long wished for occupation--some useful work, though
I should have liked something less terrible than helping to trace a
murderer; still, I will aid you if I can."

"Thank you. But if he never came here again?"

"I shall not wait for that. To-morrow I will visit those huts in which
the fishermen dwell; I may then find the man who sold the poignard, or
at least a clew to the mystery."

Diniz took one of the small hands in his, and pressed it reverently to
his lips.

"You will not go alone; I will be your companion. Together we shall
work better. But your father will he consent to your accompanying me?"

"My grandfather loves me too dearly, and trusts me too fully, to
refuse me anything. He need not know the errand upon which I am bent,"
a faint blush rising to her cheeks.

After making all necessary arrangements for the next day, Sampayo left
the Jewess, to wait impatiently until the hour arrived for him to
start on his melancholy errand.

It was still early when he left the crowed streets, to walk quickly in
the direction of a small fishing village, some distance off.

Half way he saw the tall, graceful figure of a young girl, whose long
veil of soft silky gauze hid her face from passers-by. He recognized
her at once--it was the beautiful Jewess. So, hastening his steps, he
soon stood before her.

"Senora," he said gently.

The girl started, turned, then smiled through the screening folds of
gray.

"It is you? I was afraid you would not come," in a relieved tone.

"I am too anxious to find that man, to lose the chance you have so
kindly given me. I only hope I am not putting you to any
inconvenience," Diniz said, gallantly.

"Not at all. I am only too happy to be of some use," earnestly.

For many hours they wandered about from house to house, Miriam having
armed herself with a large sum of money, hoping by acts of charity to
gain access into the poor dwellings.

They were almost despairing of finding a clew to the whereabouts of
the fisherman, when three little children, poor and hungry-looking,
playing outside a tiny hut, attracted Miriam's attention.

Stooping, she spoke gently to the little t