on the charge of having stolen a
poignard, set with jewels, from Manuel Tonza de Sepulveda."

Diniz started, and flushed angrily.

"I steal? When you know it is the weapon I bought from Phenee, the
Jew, as proof against the murderer."

"So you said; but we have heard another tale to that. Anyhow, if you
are innocent, you will be set free as soon as you are tried."

"But the man Jarima? Have you not been for him?"

"Yes, but he is useless; when we arrived, some one had been before us,
and not only blinded him, but cut out his tongue, so that he could not
speak."

"How horrible! How could any one have been so cold-blooded?" Diniz
gasped, turning pale.

"Evidently it was done for some purpose. But come, Sampayo, I cannot
wait here."

"Will nothing I say convince you I am innocent? If innocence gives
strength, I shall soon be at liberty."

Henrique smiled scornfully, and hurried the young man away.

"You will not be alone; your prison-cell is shared by another--Phenee,
the Jew. An old friend of yours, is he not?" Henrique asked.

"Friend--no! I have only spoken to him once in my life. What is he
arrested for?"

"Being a receiver of stolen goods," grimly.

Diniz thought suddenly of Miriam, and wondered how she would bear this
blow. Her only relative and dearly-loved parent torn from her side, to
linger in a damp cell. How bitterly he blamed himself for having been
the cause of Phenee's capture! If he had not disclosed the secret of
Phenee having bought the poignard from Jarima, no one would have
suspected him.

"Poor girl! She will regret now having helped a stranger, who, in
return, has brought her only grief and desolation," he murmured,
sorrowfully.

Miriam passed nearly three days in sad thought, when her solitary
mourning was broken by the visit of a thickly-veiled woman, whose low,
sweet tones fell like softest music on Miriam's ear.

"Are you alone?" she asked, glancing questioningly round the room.

"Yes. Did you want me?"

"I do, very badly. I remembered only to-day that you once proved a
true friend to Diniz Sampayo, and I came to know if you would again
aid him?" throwing back her veil, and disclosing a pale, sweet face,
stamped by deepest grief.

"Diniz Sampayo! But is he, then, in need of help--in danger?" a sudden
fear lighting up her face.

"Yes, he is in prison," sadly.

"You are sure? How can it be possible? What has he done?" in amazed
wonder.

"He has done nothing. Only his