“Andria, Andria!” she cried. “Forgive me! I don’t want to know who you are, I don’t care, except that you’re my Andria. I’m wild; if Heriot loved me he wouldn’t have gone, and he may have gone to his death. I must go out and find the old man and his cats. I’m frightened what they may do.” “Not love you--Heriot! He loves you enough not to care that you’re----” she stopped. She could not tell and there was no chance now, for the girl was past her like a whirlwind. If she had known, she could have found a better way, and now it might be too late. These very jaguars she had kissed and stroked might even now be tearing Heriot’s flesh out on the hillside. With a throat that was dry with fear for him, she stood in the garden and quavered out her strange, crooning song. She believed Andria, and yet, oh! if Heriot would only come back and swear to her that he loved her! The moon had set, and in the hushed darkness that comes before dawn the woods lay silent and terrible. Trembling and desperate the girl crooned on, and presently from far away there came a low, wailing cry. It was so far off that she shook for fear she was too late. Staring vainly into the darkness in the direction Heriot must have taken, she almost cried out as a cold hand touched hers from behind. The old man, bent almost double, was at her feet, his dreadful pets behind him. “Where have you been?” she cried, agonized loathing in her voice. “What have you done?” “Little dearest,” he answered submissively, “you told me to go and I went. I was asleep; my cats were tired, for it is nearly dawn.” “Have you seen any one?” her strong young hand gripped him fiercely. “Tell me!” “No one.” “Oh, listen!” Beryl said, tears of relief in her hot eyes, for the man spoke quite sanely and there was truth in his voice. “I told you to-night you must not hurt that man who came to me----” “We have not touched him, _querida mia_,” he answered, cringing under her hard grasp. “Was that why you called?” “No,” she sobbed. “Try to understand. I sent him to the town--there is a town?” “Yes,” he muttered, “a town of cruelty, where animals are beaten until they die, and men laugh at you if you ask for bread.” “Well, he’s gone there, to get a boat and come back for me. You must catch him and bring him back now. Tell him if he loves me he must come back, but not to the house. You and he must hide near it, for that man in the yacht wants to carry me off.” The dawn had come on them as she spoke, and in the sudden, wan light, she saw his face flush with sudden fury. “Do you understand?” she cried sharply. “You must make him hide, or we shall all be killed. But you must be ready to fight for me when I call you.”