Miriam waited with growing impatience until the man returned, and was relieved when she heard that the captain was not only there, but would see her. With wildly beating heart the girl followed her conductor to a large, darkly-furnished room, where, by a table scattered with papers, sat a tall, bronzed seaman. "I believe you are leaving India to-morrow? Would you mind telling me where you are going?" "To Africa," a look of surprise crossing his face. "Are you going to take passengers?" "That was not my intention." "But if any one asked you, would you refuse?" "I don't know. I did not want any one on board," Moriz answered uneasily. "If you knew it would do some one a great service? I am rich, and would pay you well; so do not hesitate on that account." "Is it you who wish to go?" Miriam blushed, and bit her lip angrily. She had not intended to betray her secret so soon. "Yes, it is I, and two other people. Will you take us, and set us down on one of those small islands on the coast, where no one would find us?" Moriz hesitated; but he could not withstand the eager pleading in the slumbrous eyes, the intense pathos in the sweet voice. "Yes," he said at last, very slowly, "I will take you on board; but you must be ready by to-morrow night. I cannot wait for stragglers," trying to force much severity into his tones. "Oh, thank you! I am content now. Do not fear; we shall be in time. Until then adieu," she said softly. And, with a graceful bow, she departed. Her next step was in the direction where Phenee was confined. She found no difficulty in finding the jailer, a hard-looking man enough, though Miriam thought she could see a gentle expression in his eyes when they rested on two young children, whose pale, wasted features gave evidence of close confinement in that dreary place. "I may win him yet by those little ones," she murmured; "gold will have power to touch his heart for their sakes." "You wished to see me, senora?" "Yes. I want you to answer a few questions. First, have you not got Phenee, the Jew, and Diniz Sampayo here?" "Yes, senora." "Are they together?" "No, senora." "Could it be possible for you to set them free, without fear of detection?" eagerly. "Yes, senora; but I am not a traitor." "But think, Vincent: my poor grandfather has done no harm, and he will perish in that horrible place, though innocent. And the Senor Sampayo, as I have proof, bought the poignard himself from my grandfather. Why, then, should you say he stole it?" indignantly. "It is not I who accused him; my duty here is to guard the prisoners-- not to try them."