ntee that--"

"My God,--Manuel,--he must not know I have spoken to you. He must never
know," he gasped. "Take my word,--believe me, beloved one. It is
the God's truth I tell you. Within the month I will lay diamonds,
pearls,--everything,--at your feet. I--"

"Leave me now. Come again,--tomorrow. I must think. I must--"

"But you will love me? You will come to me? You--"

"You are a very handsome boy," she said softly, "and I should like to
believe you."

He followed her for a few steps, trouble in his eyes.

"It is not enough. I must have your promise," he said.

She looked at him coldly. "You will have it when I am ready to give it,"
she said, and his face lightened for a moment, only to darken again.

"I will cut your heart out if you breathe a word of this to any one," he
whispered hoarsely.

"Is that the way for a lover to speak?" she returned.

"Yes," he said without hesitation. "It is the way,--with me."

"Come to me tomorrow and tell me exactly what my share of the treasure
is to be,--and then I will let you know whether it is to be you--or
Manuel Crust, my friend. Oh, you see, I am greedy,--and I can love
Manuel quite as easily as I can love--"

"I will cut his heart out if you--"

"There--there! It will not be necessary. Come tomorrow."

That same afternoon she went to Percival with the Spaniard's story.

"Well, we'll nip that in the bud," said he, setting his jaw. "The first
thing to do is to warn Landover."

"Warn Landover!" cried the Russian. "He is all mix up in it,--he is one
of ze ringleaders."

"No, he isn't. He's not that kind of a man. He doesn't know a thing
about all this, I'll stake my life on it."

"But, Olga," cried Ruth, white-faced and troubled; "Fernandez will kill
you. He will,--Good heaven, girl, did he not swear to cut your heart out
if you--"

"Poof!" cried the other, snapping her fingers. "He will not do zat,
my dear. I am not afraid. Do you know what happens to informers in my
country? They vanish. No one ever sees them again, and no one ever asks
where they have gone. They are here today--tomorrow they are not. It is
the same the world over."

"You mean,--Manuel's men will make way with him? How horrible!"

"Do not waste your sympathy on zat Fernandez. He is no good. You would
see what kind of man he is if this plot should succeed."

"But you will have to give him your answer tomorrow," cried Ruth.

Olga shot a keen glance at Percival's face.

"It is for you