“I don’t believe you can help me even if you would, and I don’t suppose you’ll care to try when you know the mess I am in. But you said you would, and a drowning man catches at straws. I am at the end of things; utterly broken up and ruined; and bar writing to you I have only two alternatives--to shoot myself or get more hopelessly into the power of the man who has done a lot to drag me down. That’s the mood in which I write to you, and the reason I write. If you won’t or can’t help me, say so at once.” That was the preface to his ugly story. Put in a few words he was hopelessly in Sampayo’s power. He was a gambler and a hard drinker, and Sampayo had used both these weaknesses to ruin him. And ruin him he certainly had, using a craft and cunning worthy of the man. Having got Vasco hopelessly in debt to him and others, Sampayo had succeeded in having him placed in a position where he had charge of a considerable sum of money subscribed by the officers of the regiment. He had then dunned him for payment and set others to do the same, and Vasco had been weak enough to use this money. Sampayo was of course on the watch, and had discovered the theft within a few hours of its commission. To frighten such a weakling was easy work; and Sampayo had at once engineered matters so that the money had to be instantly forthcoming. Scared out of his wits, Vasco had admitted his act, and the scoundrel, in the guise of friendship, had offered to find the sum on condition that Vasco gave him a written confession. Glad to escape on any terms, Vasco had only too readily agreed, and exposure had thus been averted. This was some six months previously. For two of them Sampayo showed nothing but friendship. Then the persecution started. Vasco was drawn into the revolutionary net and forced to commit himself. The next step was that Miralda should be involved. To save Vasco she had yielded; and after another interval the demand that she should consent to marry Sampayo had followed. She had resisted this strenuously--she had been home from Paris only about a month at the time; but the utmost pressure had been brought to bear upon her, not only by the visconte and Vasco, but by Barosa and the leaders of the revolutionary party. For two months she had held out, and had yielded only a month before my arrival. How this part of the letter stirred me will be readily understood. After my talk with Miralda on the _Stella_, it was not mere coxcombry on my part to believe that, had I come only a month earlier, I should have found her ready to receive me on the same footing as in those weeks in Paris. I could understand now the reason for Inez’ warning, Barosa’s references, Sampayo’s instant jealousy, and that regret of the viscontesse that I had not come sooner. They had known the reason for Miralda’s stubborn resistance, and had feared that my arrival would lead to her rebellion.