But Leon, who had not been seriously injured, was quick to see that once again the Providence that seemed to watch over his fortunes had interposed in a miraculous manner to save him--the Yankee shell in its inquisitive search for the most available Spanish property to destroy had torn out almost one side of the prison, and through the gaping aperture freedom beckoned. So he had crawled out, covered with dust and bearing several wounds where the flying bricks had come in contact with his person. Two days later he had been again seized, being betrayed by a negro in whom he and his lovely wife had unwisely placed confidence. From that day on he had been kept in close confinement, and finally again brought to trial. This time conviction was followed with a still more severe penalty--he was doomed to be shot. Roderic learned the whole story--it would not pay to take time to give the details--one who had sought the governor's daughter's hand and been coldly received had been elevated to a high military position in Porto Rico, and found himself in a way to visit his miserable displeasure upon the man who succeeded where he failed. Perhaps he hoped to win the widow--Heaven only knows, for some knaves have assurance enough to offer a hand red with a husband's blood to the heart-broken beauty who mourns his loss. At any rate this was the situation that demanded Roderic's attention. It was serious enough to call for determined effort on his part. True, he had never as yet met Leon, but somehow a deep interest in the young Porto Rican's fate had taken possession of him--when a man has supped many times with adventure, he experiences a sympathetic feeling for one who had also rubbed up against the hard side of life. Besides, Leon was _her_ brother, and anything that was in the remotest degree connected with Georgia appealed to his chivalrous nature. Last of all he had promised, aye, taken a solemn vow, that he would find Leon, and this being interpreted meant that should the young man be in a predicament of any sort it would be his business and his pleasure to succor him if such a thing lay in the bounds of human possibility. Roderic had means of communication abroad. A cablegram sent from Europe to a certain correspondent in New York would be immediately transmitted to another point in the West Indies, possibly San Domingo, where the message would be put in the form of a letter and sent to an imaginary Spaniard at San Juan. Thus it happened that when he returned to the humble roof that sheltered him, when evening drew on apace, he found there a well thumbed missive which upon being hastily opened contained this sanguine message: "Have broken the bank at Monte Carlo. Will sail to join you to-morrow." Roderic laughed--he could not help it. Darby had longed for a chance to try some peculiar combination he had hatched up upon the great gambling centre, and this opportunity had appeared a wonderful favor.