"I DID try to conceal myself in the hold," he said bluntly. "I intended
to remain there hidden while the ship was at Mazatlan. I did not know
until now that the vessel had changed her course."

"And how did you believe your absence would be accounted for?" asked the
Senor blandly.

"I thought it would be supposed that I had fallen overboard before we
entered Mazatlan."

"So that anybody seeking you there would not find you, and you would be
believed to be dead?"

"Yes." He raised his eyes quickly to Senor Perkins again. "I am neither
a thief nor a murderer," he said almost savagely, "but I do not choose
to be recognized by any one who knows me on this side of the grave."

Senor Perkins' eyes sought his, and for an instant seemed to burn
through the singular, fatuous mist that veiled them.

"My friend," he said cheerfully, after a moment's pause, "you have just
had a providential escape. I repeat it--a most providential escape.
Indeed, if I were inclined to prophesy, I would say you were a man
reserved for some special good fortune."

The prisoner stared at him with angry amazement.

"You are a confirmed somnambulist. Excuse me," continued the Senor, with
a soft, deprecating gesture; "you are, of course, unaware of it--most