She nodded. “Is it true? Did you see the permit yourself?” “Yes. Here it is.” “I don’t want to see it. It doesn’t matter,” she said, with utter weariness in her voice. “When do we leave? I want to go home. Send father to me, please, Fitz.” Mr. Brewster came to her, bearing the news that the sailing was set for the morrow. “I’m glad to know that Dr. and Mrs. Pruyn are provided for,” she remarked, so casually that the troubled father drew a breath of relief, concluding that he must have misinterpreted the girl’s interest in the man behind the goggles. On his way to the _patio_, he passed through the room where the scientist had lain. He came out looking perturbed. “Has any one been in that room just now?” he asked Sherwen. “Not that I’ve seen.” “The coat and the other things are not there.” Inquiry and search alike proved unavailing. Not until an hour later did they discover that Carroll had also disappeared. Sherwen found a note from him on the office desk:— Please look after my luggage. Will join the others at the yacht to-morrow. P. F. F. C. XII. THE WOMAN AT THE QUINTA Thanks to his rival’s map, Carroll had little difficulty in finding the trail to the mountain _quinta_. A brilliant new moon helped to make easy the ascent. What course he would pursue upon his arrival he had not clearly defined to himself. That would depend largely upon the attitude of the man he was seeking. The flame of battle, still hot from the afternoon’s melee, burned high in the Southerner’s soul, for he was not of those whose spirit rapidly cools. Bitter resentment on behalf of Miss Polly Brewster fanned that flame. On one point he was determined: neither he nor the so-called Perkins should leave the mountain until he had had from the latter’s own lips a full explanation. Coming out into the open space, he got his first glimpse of the _quinta_. It was dark, except for one low light. From the farther side there came faintly to his ear a rhythmical sound, with brief intervals of quiet, as if some one hard at labor were stopping from time to time for breath. At that distance, Carroll could not interpret the sound, but some unidentified quality of it struck chill upon his fancy. Long experience in the woods had made him a good trailsman. He proceeded cautiously until he reached the edge of the clearing. The sound had stopped now, but he thought he could hear heavy breathing from beyond the house. As he moved toward that side, a small but malevolent-looking snake slithered out from beneath a bush near by. Involuntarily he leaped aside. As he landed, a round pebble slipped under his foot. He flung up his arm. It met the low branch of a tree, and saved him a fall. But the thrashing of the leaves made a startling noise in the moonlit stillness. The snake went on about its business. “Hola!” challenged a voice around the angle of the house.