d a weed, and struck a match to light it. The flame illumined his
face so that I could see it distinctly. If I had not had myself well
under control, I believe I should have uttered an exclamation of
surprise that could not have failed to attract attention. _The man who
had set those rascals on to try and get rid of me, was none other than
Mr. Edward Bayley, the Managing Director of the Santa Cruz Mining
Company of the Argentine Republic!_

Here was a surprise indeed! What on earth did it all mean?

CHAPTER V

I must confess that the discovery I had made behind St. Martin's church,
and which I described at the end of the previous chapter, had proved too
much for me. What possible reason could Mr. Bayley have for wanting to
rid himself of me? Only the morning before he had been anxious to secure
my services in the interests of his Company, and now here he was hiring
a couple of ruffians to prevent me from doing my work, if not to take my
life. When I reached my hotel again, and went to bed, I lay awake half
the night endeavouring to arrive at an understanding of it; but, try how
I would, I could not hit upon a satisfactory solution. Upon one thing,
however, I had quite made up my mind. As soon as the City offices were
open, I would call at that of the Santa Cruz Mining Company, and put a
few questions to Mr. Bayley which I fancied that individual would find
difficult and rather unpleasant to answer. This plan I carried out, and
at ten o'clock I stood in the handsome outer office of the Company.

"I should be glad to see the managing director, if he could spare me a
few moments," I said to the youth who waited upon me in answer to his
question.

"He's engaged, sir, at present," the lad replied. "If you will take a
seat, however, I don't fancy he will be very long."

I did as he directed, and in the interval amused myself by studying a
large map of the Argentine Republic, which hung upon the wall. I had
practically exhausted its capabilities when the door opened, and a tall,
military-looking man emerged and passed out into the street.

"What name shall I say, sir?" inquired the clerk, as he descended from
his high stool and approached me.

"Fairfax," I replied, giving him my card. "I think the manager will know
my name."

The clerk disappeared to return a few moments later with the request
that I would follow him. Preparing myself for what I fully expected
would be a scene, I entered the director's sanctum. I