The white gleam of the brocaded gown caught the eyes of the singers, and then a great cry went up in the night, and the music of the dance ceased, and the people crowded about the dead woman on the altar steps, and the old Indios crossed themselves, and said in their own tongue: "It has come, after all,--the sacrifice of blood on the altar of the temple,--the thing our fathers told us has come to pass." The strings of pearls and other jewels were scattered on the diamond-shaped tiles of the floor, and many were red with blood. "Some one has tried to steal the jewels while we all danced there," suggested one of the guests, "and she has died defending them. Rafael, she has given her life to save the jewels of your wife!" "Yes," Rafael said, at last, and stared at the speaker in a dazed way; "my wife. I--I will go to my wife." He strode through the crowd toward the living-rooms, and flung wide the door of her chamber. She was on her knees where Padre Libertad had left her. "Raquel!" His voice sounded hollow and strange in his own ears. A strange buzzing in his head blurred speech and thought, and when she arose and faced him with clear eyes and quiet face, he leaned against the chair and looked at her strangely--helplessly. "She is dead," he said, thickly; "Angela Bryton is found dead--and your jewels--" "Wait," she said, "and I will go with you." And turning, she lifted the lid from the perfumed box of candles. "She did not believe in these," she said, quietly, "but we will light them for her, just the same. None of us knew whom they would burn for; perhaps she knows now, Rafael." He made no answer, but moved like a man stunned mentally. Out beside her he walked to the altar-place, and the people made way for them. It was the hour of dawn when a fisherman rode from the beach to tell how he had found two sailors beaten and bound at the landing-place. They had a story of a sailing-vessel and sacks of coin, and a bearded man who looked like El Capitan; but it must have been his ghost, for it was thought Capitan was dead, as well as Juan Flores. At any rate, the vessel was gone, and the sailors were left tied on the shore. They were afraid to face Rafael Arteaga, because of the coin he had trusted them with, and the good boat, gone now straight out of sight--the saints and the devil only knew where! But they needed not to fear Rafael. The coin, for which he had exchanged all the cattle and horses possible to sell in two days' time, was a forgotten thing to him, or uncared for. He sat apart and silent, as though paralyzed by a great fear, and he ever followed Raquel Arteaga with his eyes, and said nothing.