"My God!" he uttered, and his eyes roved from the fair face in the picture to that of the still unconscious girl. Something in the strange likeness of the two affected him terribly.
"Can it be?" he said, aloud; and as if he had asked her a question, the white lids of Jaquelina fluttered upward, and she fixed her dark eyes upon him.
Then she saw that he held her treasured locket open in his hand, and a gleam of anger flashed from her eyes.
"How dare you?" she cried, trying to wrench it from him.
But the outlaw caught the weak little hands and held them tightly.
"Girl," he said, hoarsely, "tell me whose faces are these you wear upon your breast?"
Something in his strong, repressed agitation forced a reply from Jaquelina's pale lips.
"They are those of my father and mother," she replied, wonderingly.
"Your mother's maiden name?" he asked, fixing his dark, magnetic eyes upon her face.
And again some power that seemed beyond her own volition, held her passionate anger in abeyance, and forced her to reply, quietly: