Appleby went out with him into the veranda, and set his lips for a moment when he saw, though Morales did not, a stealthy shadow flit out of it. He also surmised there were more men lurking in the patio beneath, and felt that a disaster was imminent if Maccario’s apprehensions led him to do anything precipitate. Then it seemed scarcely likely that the colonel of cazadores would leave the place alive. Still, his voice did not betray him. “I am at your service, señor.” he said. “The affair is serious,” said Morales dryly. “I am informed that there are arms concealed in your factory. Ten cases of them, I understand, are in your store shed.” If he had expected any sign of consternation he did not see it, for Appleby smiled incredulously. “If so, they were put there without my consent or knowledge, but I fancy your spies have been mistaken,” he said. “Will you come with me and search the shed?” Morales made a little gesture of assent. “I have men not far away, but I am a friend of the Señor Harding’s, and it seemed to me the affair demanded discretion,” he said. “That is why I left them until I had spoken with you. Still, if we do not find those arms nobody will be better pleased than me.” They went down the stairway, and Appleby bade a man in the patio summon his comrades. Then they walked along the tramway towards an iron shed, where there was a delay while one of the men lighted a lantern and opened the door When this was done they went in, and for almost an hour the peons rolled out barrels and dragged about boxes and cases of which they opened one here and there. Still, there was no sign of a rifle, and when they had passed through two or three other sheds Morales’ face was expressionless as he professed himself satisfied. They walked back silently side by side, until the officer stopped by a cane truck and rubbed off the ash from his cigar on one of the cases that lay upon it. He also moved a little so that he could see Appleby’s face in the light of the lantern a dusky workman held. The latter was eyeing Morales curiously, and Appleby fancied by the way he bent his right hand that very little would bring the wicked, keen‐pointed knife flashing from his sleeve. “It seems that my informants have been mistaken,” said the colonel. “I can only recommend you the utmost discretion. It is—you understand— necessary.” He turned with a little formal salutation and walked down the tram‐line, while the dusty workman smiled curiously as he straightened his right hand. Appleby gasped and went back slowly, while he flung himself down somewhat limply into a chair when he reached his living‐room, where Harper sat alone. “Where is Maccario?” he asked. “Lit out!” said Harper dryly. “He’d had ’bout enough of it, though I guess his nerves are good. Kind of a strain on your own ones too?” Appleby’s face showed almost haggard, and he smiled wearily.