"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.