"'And do you think now that I could see Joyce go to such a man?' I asked.

"'You do not fully understand,' he persisted. 'The situation is this,'—and he repeated that Señor de Sanchez would have the power to do away with the impending scandal. We concluded by agreeing to leave the matter with Joyce.

"Her manner of taking it greatly relieved the situation. 'Give me six months,' was her response. 'If at the end of that time you still consider it necessary, I will marry him.' She looked at her father with open scorn. Then she went on, 'You may inform him; but this promise rests on three conditions: that it be kept a secret; that it is never referred to in my presence, directly or indirectly; and that he make no attempt to see me till the six months have expired.'

"The General said, 'I am afraid he will receive the message with a sour smile, my dear.' But Joyce's manner showed a complete indifference. 'Moreover,' went on my husband, 'your word once passed, there must be no backing down—no retreat.' She flashed another scornful look at him, but merely said, 'Do not forget to emphasize the three conditions when you see Señor de Sanchez.'

"And such was the arrangement at the time of Señor de Sanchez's death."

The Captain fixed his regard upon the cold and handsome woman before him, and strove to harmonize her appearance with the remarkable marital condition revealed by her most amazing disclosure. Was it possible she sat as tranquilly as she now was sitting, and discussed in those arctic tones the chances of her husband committing suicide, with this same air of easy indifference? It was impossible not to believe her; yet such utter sang-froid was almost inconceivable.

In a moment Converse pulled himself together.

"With your permission, I will ask you a few questions concerning Miss Joyce. First, do you know why she remained silent before my questions this morning?"

She lowered her head, and sat for a time in deep reflection. When she again turned to him, it was not to reply directly to his question.

"I am not fully in my daughter's confidence in this matter, although I believe I do know what motives—or impulses, rather—are controlling her. I may add that they have my reprobation; but the interests involved are quite serious; Joyce has unexpectedly developed a phase of character astonishing to me, and for the first time in my life I hesitate to interfere in her affairs. The matter does not affect her own welfare alone, and I must refuse to go further into it with you. She has assumed a terrible responsibility, and however severely I may condemn her conduct, she has commanded my admiration. I feel that I must at least coöperate to the extent of respecting her silence. She wishes to see you, I believe. Hear from her what she has to say."