"We shared the expenses of the expedition, we were to share the profits; but Carr treated me shamefully. The treasure was said to be concealed beyond Cuzco--where it does not matter. I know, but I do not intend to tell. I fell ill at the first stage of the journey after we left Cuzco and were amongst the mountains. What did Carr do? He left me to the care of the Indians, and pushed on himself. That was the last I saw of the devil. For two years I was held captive amongst the Indians and barely escaped with my life. I hunted for Carr when I got to Callao; but he had disappeared. I traced him to Mexico. He vanished from Vera Cruz. I was worn out and ill. I went back to my own family, and all these years I thought nothing about the Colonel. But chance brought me to England, and chance led me to hear where Colonel Carr was settled. As I said I would have seen him to reproach him for his treachery, but----" Don Manuel shrugged--"he is dead. That is the end." "A strange story, and not creditable to Carr," said Herrick wondering if all this was a lie. "Who was it told you where Colonel Carr lived?" "I did not," said Joyce on whose face Jim's eyes rested for a moment. "I knew nothing of this until this moment." "Where I heard the name Señor, can be of little interest to you," said the Don with a sneer. "It was in London. I tell you no more." "I do not want you to tell me anything," retorted Herrick the blood rushing to his face. "So far, I am interested in your story, but if you choose to be silent, you are at liberty to do so." "Pardon," said Manuel humbly, "I did not intend to provoke your anger," but as he spoke there was a nasty glitter in his eyes, "I cannot tell you who gave me the information without breaking confidence with a friend." Herrick grunted, but he said nothing. Santiago was evidently a dangerous little devil. For all he knew the Mexican might have had something to do with the murder. Of all strange circumstances that Herrick had stumbled upon this surely was the strangest! To find the man who knew of the past of Colonel Carr, in the company of Robin Joyce. As the meal was now at an end, the three adjourned to the study where they began to smoke. Herrick had his pipe, Joyce a cigarette, and Manuel produced one of those long lean Mexican cigars, that only a hardened smoker can enjoy. As he bent forward over the spirit lamp, Jim saw by the touch of grey on his temples and the wrinkles down the side of his neck that the man was much older than he had thought. At the first glance Santiago looked--if you wanted to be disagreeable--say thirty-five. Herrick was now sure he was over fifty. But the man was in wonderfully good condition. Having noticed him at the table Jim saw that he was both abstemious and temperate.