n't you see then... don't you see, that we dare not use the signs of
one in the service of the other?"

"Pendleton," said the man, "I do not understand you."

He spoke slowly and precisely, like one moving with an excess of care.

My father went on, his voice strong and level, his eyes on Zindorf.

"The thing is a great mystery," he said. "It is not clear to any of us
in its causes or its relations. But old legends and old beliefs, running
down from the very morning of the world, tell us--warn us, Zindorf--that
the signs of each of these masters are abhorrent to the other. Neither
will tolerate the use of his adversary's sign. Moreover, Zindorf, there
is a double peril in it."

And his voice rose.

"There is the peril that the new master will abandon the blunderer for
the insult, and there is the peril that the old one will destroy him for
the sacrilege!"

At this moment the door behind Zindorf opened, and the young girl
entered. She was excited and her eyes danced.

"Oh!" she said, "people are coming on every road!"

She looked, my father said, like a painted picture, her dark Castilian
beauty illumined by the pleasure in her interpretation of events. She
thought the countryside assembled after the manner of my father to
express its felicitations.

Zindorf crossed in great strides to the window: Mr. Lucian Morrow, sober
and overwhelmed by the mystery of events about him, got unsteadily on
his feet, holding with both hands to the oak back of a chair.

My father said that the tragedy of the thing was on him, and he acted
under the pressure of it.

"My child," he said, "you are to go to the house of your grandfather in
Havana. If Mr. Lucian Morrow wishes to renew his suit for your hand in
marriage, he will do it there. Go now and make your preparations for the
journey."

The girl cried out in pleasure at the words.

"My grandfather is a great person in New Spain. I have always longed to
see him... father promised... and now I am to go ... when do we set out,
Meester Pendleton?"

"At once," replied my father, "to-day." Then he crossed the room and
opened the door for her to go out. He held the latch until the girl was
down the stairway. Then he closed the door.

The big man, falsely in his aspect, like a monk, looking out at the
far-off figures on the distant roads, now turned about.

"A clever ruse, Pendleton," he said, "We can send her now, on this
pretended journey, to Morrow's house, after the sale