suddenly reappearing, a look of intense anxiety on his face.

"Senora," he said politely, drawing from his breast the poignard, "can
you tell me from whom your father bought this?"

"I do not know his name, but I believe he is a fisherman and lives in
yonder village," Miriam answered simply.

"Should you know him again? Pardon my asking, but it is very important
I should discover the owner of this weapon. By doing so I may be able
to bring a murderer to meet his doom, and avenge the death of my best
friend!"

Miriam gazed at him compassionately, a serious light in her dark eyes.

"I will help you," she said suddenly, moved as it were by a strange
impulse; "I have long wished for occupation--some useful work, though
I should have liked something less terrible than helping to trace a
murderer; still, I will aid you if I can."

"Thank you. But if he never came here again?"

"I shall not wait for that. To-morrow I will visit those huts in which
the fishermen dwell; I may then find the man who sold the poignard, or
at least a clew to the mystery."

Diniz took one of the small hands in his, and pressed it reverently to
his lips.

"You will not go alone; I will be your companion. Together we shall