first and talk afterward.”
“I’ll try, old man,” Francis wanted to help Henry.
But the thought of her perplexed him. That lovely girl belonged to the man who looked so much like him! He sighed involuntarily.
“Leoncia is a very pretty girl,” Francis said. “Where’s that ring she returned? If I don’t put it on her finger for you and be back here in a week with the good news, you can cut off my mustache along with my ears.”
An hour later, Captain sent a boat to the beach from the Angelique. The two young men said good-bye.
“Listen, Francis. First, Leoncia is not a Solano at all, though she thinks she is. Alfaro told me himself. She is an adopted child, Alfaro said she wasn’t Spanish at all. I don’t even know whether she’s English or American. She was adopted when she was a baby.”
“And,” Francis laughed, “she believes that you killed her uncle.”
Henry nodded, and went on.
“The other thing is important, too. It’s a long way to Panama[31], and the Jefe Politico[32] at San Antonio is a very sly man. He’s the little czar of that land, and he’s a real scoundrel, believe me. He’s as cruel as a weasel. And his only delight is an execution[33]. He adores hanging. So… Please get that ring back on Leoncia’s finger.”
Two days later, all the men of Leoncia’s family were away. Francis landed on the beach where he had first met her. Francis wrote on a sheet of paper from his notebook, “I am the man whom you mistook for Henry Morgan, and I have a- message for you from him.” Then he heard the Leoncia’s cry. Note and pencil fell to the sand. Soon he saw her. Leoncia’s face was colorless.
“What is it?” Francis demanded. “Are you hurt? What’s happened?”
She pointed at her bare knee with two tiny drops of blood.
“It was a viperine,” she said. “A deadly viperine. I’ll be a dead woman in five minutes, and I am very glad, because I won’t see you again.”
She sank down in a faint.
Francis pulled out his handkerchief and tied it loosely around her leg above the knee. Next, he opened the small blade of his pocket-knife, burned it with several matches, and cut carefully into the two lacerations made by the snake’s fangs.
The girl began to move restlessly.
“Lie down,” he commanded.
At the same instant the Indian lad ran out of the jungle. He was swinging a small dead snake by the tail and crying:
“Labarri[34]! Labarri!”
“Lie down, and be quiet!” Francis repeated harshly.
“Oh!” she said. “It’s only a baby labarri, and its bite is harmless. I thought it was a viperine. They look alike.”
She glanced down and discovered his handkerchief knotted around her leg.
“Oh, what have you done? It was only a baby labarri,” she reproached him.
“You told me it was a viperine,” he retorted.
She hid her face in her hands. She was laughing.
“And now, Miss Solano,” he said, “please, listen and don’t interrupt me.” He stooped and picked up the note. “I was just sending that to you by the boy when you screamed. Take it. Read it.”
She looked at the paper.
“I am the man whom you mistook for Henry Morgan…”
“You… are… not… Henry?” she gasped.
“No, I am not.”
“But the name? your name?”
“Morgan, Francis Morgan.” He bowed. “As I explained there, Henry and I are distant relatives. Moreover, Henry did not kill your uncle.”
A great doubt suddenly dawned in her eyes.
“Henry,” she accused him. “You are joking. Of course you are Henry.”
Francis pointed to his mustache.
“You’ve grown that since.”
He pulled up his sleeve and showed her his left arm from wrist to elbow.
“Do you remember the scar?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Then find it.”
“I… I ask your forgiveness. I was terribly mistaken! Do you have a message from Henry?” she asked. “Is he innocent? This is true? Oh, I want to believe you!”
“I am certain that Henry did not kill your uncle!”
“Then say no more,” she interrupted joyfully. “First of all, you must go with me now to the house. And tell me everything about Henry.”
Alvarez Torres was sitting on the broad piazza of the Solano Hacienda[35]. What he saw was Leoncia and Francis. Torres did not believe his eyes: Francis took a ring, and Leoncia extended her left hand and received the ring upon her third ringer.
So Henry’s ring came back on Leoncia’s hand. But Leoncia was not very glad to receive the ring.
Torres twisted his mustache fiercely, and advanced to meet.
“You, a shameless murderer!”
Francis smiled.
“Another lunatic,” he said. “The last time, Leoncia, that I saw this gentleman was in New York. Now I meet him here and the first thing he tells me is that I am a shameless murderer.”
“Senor Torres, you must apologize,” she declared angrily. “We don’t insult guests here.”
“Senor Torres,” Francis said, “I know your mistake. You think I am Henry Morgan. I am Francis Morgan, and you and I, not long ago, transacted business together in Regan’s office in New York.”
Torres uttered apologies both to Francis and Leoncia.
“And now,” said Leoncia, “Senor Torres, we will tell you about Henry.”
Torres was very amazed and angry. A newcomer, a stranger put a ring on Leoncia’s engagement finger! Leoncia, whom to himself he always named the queen of his dreams, engaged herself to a strange Gringo from New York. It was unbelievable, monstrous!
After lunch, Francis wanted to bring to Henry the good news. So he resolutely declined her hospitality to remain for the night and meet Enrico Solano and his sons. Moreover, Francis could not endure the presence of Leoncia. She charmed him, drew him. So Francis departed with a letter to Henry from Leoncia in his pocket. Leoncia stared at the ring on her finger.
From the beach, Francis signaled the Angelique to send a boat ashore for him. But suddenly half a dozen horsemen rode down the beach upon him at a gallop. Two men led. The following four had guns. One of the leaders was Torres.
“Now, sirs, tell me, what do you want? My ears, or my mustache?”
“We want you,” answered the leader.
“And who are you?”
“He is the honorable Senor Mariano Vercara e Hijos[36], Jefe Politico of San Antonio,” Torres replied.
“Good night,” Francis laughed. “But I am only a passenger. You must talk to the Captain.”
“You are wanted[37] for the murder of Alfaro Solano,” was Torres’ answer. “You didn’t fool me, Henry Morgan. And you are the