"But where did you see anything?" said Joan, coming up.

Rosita flew to her side. "Where? Oh, here!--everywhere! Ah, I am a
fool!" She was laughing now, albeit there were tears glistening on her
lashes when she laid her head on Joan's shoulder.

"It was some fancy--some resemblance you saw in that queer cactus," said
Demorest, gently. "It is quite natural, I was myself deceived the other
night. But I'll look around to satisfy you. Take Dona Rosita back to the
veranda, Joan. But don't be alarmed, dear--it was only an illusion."

He turned away. When his figure was lost in the entwining foliage, Dona
Rosita seized Joan's shoulder and dragged her face down to a level with
her own.

"It was something!" she whispered quickly.

"Who?"

"It was--HIM!"

"Nonsense," groaned Joan, nevertheless casting a hurried glance around
her.

"Have no fear," said Dona Rosita quickly, "he is gone--I saw him pass
away--so! But it was HE--Huanson. I recognize him. I forget him never."

"Are you sure?"

"Have I the eyes? the memory? Madre de Dios! Am I a lunatico too? Look!