"We have arrived a little too late; blind men cannot see, or dumb ones tell tales. Some horrible wretch has done this deed, fearful of his betraying them. I wonder who?" The woman, when questioned, could tell them nothing. She only knew her husband had been brought home in his present condition at daybreak, and remained unconscious since. "I regret to say it is our painful duty to take him; every care will be given him. He is suspected of having murdered Luiz Falcam." "No, no; you are mistaken! It is some one else, not he. Jarima was much too gentle to kill any one!" the woman cried, passionately. Her prayers and supplications were unavailing. Henrique was obliged to do his duty, and bade his men take the suffering man to prison. Some hours later, as Diniz stood in his room, just before setting out in search of Henrique, that man entered the house, followed by several soldiers. "Diniz Sampayo, I arrest you on the charge of having stolen a poignard, set with jewels, from Manuel Tonza de Sepulveda." Diniz started, and flushed angrily. "I steal? When you know it is the weapon I bought from Phenee, the Jew, as proof against the murderer." "So you said; but we have heard another tale to that. Anyhow, if you are innocent, you will be set free as soon as you are tried." "But the man Jarima? Have you not been for him?" "Yes, but he is useless; when we arrived, some one had been before us, and not only blinded him, but cut out his tongue, so that he could not speak." "How horrible! How could any one have been so cold-blooded?" Diniz gasped, turning pale. "Evidently it was done for some purpose. But come, Sampayo, I cannot wait here." "Will nothing I say convince you I am innocent? If innocence gives strength, I shall soon be at liberty." Henrique smiled scornfully, and hurried the young man away. "You will not be alone; your prison-cell is shared by another--Phenee, the Jew. An old friend of yours, is he not?" Henrique asked. "Friend--no! I have only spoken to him once in my life. What is he arrested for?" "Being a receiver of stolen goods," grimly. Diniz thought suddenly of Miriam, and wondered how she would bear this blow. Her only relative and dearly-loved parent torn from her side, to linger in a damp cell. How bitterly he blamed himself for having been the cause of Phenee's capture! If he had not disclosed the secret of Phenee having bought the poignard from Jarima, no one would have suspected him. "Poor girl! She will regret now having helped a stranger, who, in return, has brought her only grief and desolation," he murmured, sorrowfully. Miriam passed nearly three days in sad thought, when her solitary mourning was broken by the visit of a thickly-veiled woman, whose low, sweet tones fell like softest music on Miriam's ear. "Are you alone?" she asked, glancing questioningly round the room. "Yes. Did you want me?"