"Duped! Made the plaything of a willful Spanish beauty!" Such were Howard Sherwood's bitter words, as he left the vault, strode past Cara, the maid, and forth into the darkness of the tropical night. His heart was like a lump of lead, while his brain seemed on fire. Estella's revelation had come to him like a thunderbolt out of a clear sky. "She is to wed another! She knew this, and yet she let me go on. It was unmaidenly, extremely reprehensible!" He grated his teeth. "Well, that's my first experience in love, and I'll take care that it shall be my last! Henceforth I'll devote myself strictly to business." With a kind of grim satisfaction he remembered that he had his letters once more. Now he could visit the various rebel leaders without delay, and learn what they might have to say for publication. He strode on and on, not knowing in what direction, and caring still less. He was in no humor for retiring, and would doubtless have continued his pedestrianism all night had not an unexpected interruption occurred. "Vayase Vms!" (Go away, you!) The sharp cry, coming from the opposite side of the street Howard was traversing, caused the young war correspondent to come to a sudden halt. In the dim light he saw a tall, heavily bearded man in the grasp of two dirty rascals. One of them had the man by the throat, while the other was trying to steal his gold watch and chain. "Vayase Vms!" cried the gentleman again, and he began to struggle desperately to free himself. But the footpads were strong, and deftly threw him upon his back. "Hold on there!" exclaimed Howard, running up. "What are you up to here?" The footpads, who could not understand English, stared at him sullenly, taken by surprise. "They would rob me, señor," gasped the gentleman, speaking with the strongest Spanish accent. "Assist me to get rid of them, and I will reward you well!" "I don't want any reward to help you beat off thieves," returned Howard, and, leaping closer, he struck one of the rascals a stinging blow in the face. "Begone, before I shoot you full of holes, you miserable curs!" They did not understand the words, but the blow counted for much, and when his pistol came into sight, one spoke to the other, and both promptly took to their heels. The Spanish gentleman had been fighting the pair for several minutes previous to the young war correspondent's arrival, and now it took him some time to get his breath and adjust his attire. While he was doing this, Howard noticed that he was a noble-looking man, well past middle age, and that on the breast of his coat was pinned the badge of the Royal Army Legion of Spain. "I have much to thank you for, señor," said the Spanish gentleman, when he had recovered his breath. "The rascals would have robbed me of everything, even at the cost of my life!" He held out his hand, and they shook warmly. Then the man looked at Howard, curiously. "Do you not speak Spanish?" he asked in that tongue.