"You must speak," said Frank, seizing his opportunity, "or else condemn an innocent man." "An innocent man? Who?" "Mr. Frederick Leighbourne. We have found out that he changed some of the notes, so it is just possibly that he may be accused of the robbery." "No, no," cried Maria, much agitated, "it cannot be. Mr. Leighbourne did not take that money out of the safe, I can prove it." "Then do so, and save him from possible arrest." The girl looked wildly round the room, then she ran to the window, sprang back to open the door and close it again; finally she paused before Frank and seized his hand. The touch thrilled him. "Mr. Darrel," she said hurriedly, "you are a gentleman, and I will trust you. I have kept silent out of fear of the Blue Mummy Society, but I shall do so no longer. Mr. Leighbourne did not take the money out of the safe, but I can tell you who did." "Captain Manuel?" asked Darrel with a start. "No," she said slowly. "Maria Sandoval!" "You! You!" "I--I took the money and gave it to Mr. Grent." CHAPTER XII THE LOCKET The information was so unexpected and terrible that Frank felt the blood leave his cheeks. Pale as a ghost, he rose from his chair, and looked at Donna Maria with dilated eyes. From her confession he fancied that she must be implicated in the double crime, and a feeling of terror seized him at the idea of the woman he loved having brought herself within the reach of the law. Donna Maria saw his expression, and with the swift instinct of a woman, guessed his thoughts. With a haughty gesture she hung back her head, and her eyes sparkled like stars on a frosty night as she spoke to him. "Oh, don't think I have done anything wrong!" she cried defiantly. "What I did was at the request of my uncle. Sit down, Mr. Darrel, and I'll tell you the story in detail." She pointed to his chair with a regal gesture, and when he resumed his seat faced him with a wonderfully composed look. She began her confession--as it may be called--tamely enough; but as the story became more dramatic she warmed to her work, and finished with all the fire, and fury, and gesticulation of her Southern nature. Frank, sympathising with her quick spirit, was enthralled by her beauty, moved by her eloquence, and felt that here was a woman to die for. "When my uncle took leave of us here to go to Italy," she said, "He called me into his study, and, after asking me not to reveal what he was about to tell me, made a confession. That I reveal it now is to save an innocent man from arrest." "True enough, Miss Sandoval. But the confession?" "Was that when in Lima ten years ago--at which time he married my aunt--he had become entangled with a certain association called----" "The Peruvian Patriots," interrupted Frank. "I know all about that society and it's blue mummies. Go on, please."