"Oh, Manuello," she cried, breathing pantingly, "what has happened here? Are you hurt? There is blood on your wrist ... and ..." here she stopped in consternation, "what else have you here?" for the Irishman had done, at least, a part of his work well, having locked the handcuff which the young man had almost forgotten he was wearing, "Take the hateful thing off, dear Manuello ... do take it off ... I don't like to see it on your wrist." "Easier said than done, my dear little Girl!" declared the victim, smilingly. "But we can fix that somehow; in the meantime, we will let this fellow lay where he has fallen. Someone of his tribe will, likely, be along, soon, and they can take care of each other. Come along, Tessa, we will see what we can do with this piece of jewelry ... it is rather unwieldy ... I don't like the look of it." The home of the young girl was not far distant and thither they repaired; after repeated efforts to file through or break the manacles, Tessa bethought herself of one possible method of releasing Manuello and acted upon her idea at once; running out upon the street she approached the place where the soldier had fallen, for he wore the uniform of the Spanish army, intending to feel in all of his pockets for a key that would unlock the handcuffs. As she drew near to the spot she heard low voices and crept along in the shadow of the shrubbery that lined the narrow street until she was within ear-shot; then she realized that two more soldiers had joined their fallen comrade whom they had resuscitated, so that he was relating to them something of the circumstances that had led to his present plight: "Ye see, b'ys," he was saying, "I wanted to arrist the spalpeen myself becase I think he is not only a revolutionist, but, also, a mhurderer ... a fella we arristed yesterday tould me that he thinks _this_ wan killed the leader of thim all ... seems he was jealous of him ... they both wanted the same ghirl...." Tessa, realizing that her errand was useless, turned to go back silently, but the words she had heard had burned themselves into her brain, and when she was again beside Manuello he seemed far different to her than he had before; she found him almost crazy from fear of discovery as he had failed in all of his efforts to free himself from the device that had been placed upon his wrist. "Did you get the key?" he demanded, almost fiercely. "Where is it? This cursed thing is almost killing me!" Frightened at his expression and regretting her inability to help him, the girl began to cry, lifting her apron to her eyes to wipe away her tears; as she did so, the young man said to her, angrily: