to his granddaughter."

Coronado, dumb with astonishment and dismay, mechanically slapped his boot
with his cane and stared at Garcia.

"I am ruined," cried the old man. "The pig of hell has ruined me. He has
left me, his cousin, his only male relative, to ruin. Not a doubloon to
save me.'

"Is there _no_ chance?" asked Coronado, after a long silence.

"None! Oh--yes--one. A little one, a miserable little one. If she dies
without issue and without a will, I am heir. And you, Carlos" (changing
here to a wheedling tone), "you are mine."

The look which accompanied these last words was a terrible mingling of
cunning, cruelty, hope, and despair.

Coronado glanced at Garcia with a shocking comprehension, and immediately
dropped his dusky eyes upon the floor.

"You know I have made my will," resumed the old man, "and left you
everything."

"Which is nothing," returned Coronado, aware that his uncle was insolvent
in reality, and that his estate when settled would not show the residuum
of a dollar.

"If the fortune of Muñoz comes to me, I shall be very rich."