"Iver since, sor, an' doin' finely, wid the blessin' o' God.I own that place," pointing to the stable, "an' four as good turnouts as ye'd ax to sit behind.""I'm glad of it," said Gerald heartily."I like to hear of the boys from the old neighborhood doing well.""Won't ye step inside, sor, an' thry a drop of something? Ye must be choked intirely wid the dust.""I don't care if I do," answered Gerald."I feel pretty much as if I'd swallowed a limekiln."A minute later the two were seated in Denny's own particular room, where Gerald washed the dust from his throat with some capital bottled beer, while his host paid attention to a large demijohn which contained, as he informed the journalist in an impressive whisper, "close on to a gallon of the real ould stuff."Their conversation extended far into the night; but long before they separated Gerald induced Denny to despatch his Mexican helper, on a good mustang, to the Ugarte ranch, bearing to Senor Vincenza Mr.Ffrench's card, on which were penciled the words: "Please come over to San Luis as soon as possible.Most important business."For the tale told by the ex-postboy, his change of residence and present prosperity, seemed to throw a curious light on the Drim churchyard mystery.

Senor Vincenza appeared the following morning just as Gerald had finished breakfast.The ranchero remembered the representative of the Evening Mail and greeted him cordially, expressing his surprise at Gerald's presence in that part of the country.The Spaniard evidently imagined that this unexpected visit had some bearing on the recently decided lawsuit, but the other's first words dispelled the illusion.

"Senor Vincenza," Ffrench said, "I have heard a very strange story about your sister, and I have come to ask you for an explanation of it."The young Spaniard changed color and looked uneasily at the journalist.

"What do you mean?" he asked."I do not understand you.My sister is in Europe.""Yes," answered Gerald, "she is in Europe--in Ireland.She fills a nameless grave in Drim churchyard."Vincenza leaped to his feet, and the cigarette he had lighted dropped from his fingers.They were in Gerald's room at the hotel, and the young man had placed his visitor so that the table was between them.He suspected that he might have to deal with a desperate man.Vincenza leaned over the narrow table, and his breath blew hot in Ffrench's face as he hissed, "Carambo! What do you mean? How much do you know?""I know everything.I know how she died in the carriage on your way from Mullingar; how you purchased a coffin and bribed the undertaker to silence; how you laid her, in the dead of night, among the weeds in the graveyard; how you cut her name from the chatelaine bag, and did all in your power to hide her identity, even carrying off with you the postboy who drove you and aided you to place her where she was found.Do you recognize that photograph? Have you ever seen that coat-of-arms before?" and Ffrench drew the two cards from his pocket and offered them to Vincenza.

The Spaniard brushed them impatiently aside and crouched for a moment as if to spring.Gerald never took his eyes off him, and presently the other straightened up, and, sinking into the chair behind him, attempted to roll a cigarette.But his hand trembled, and half the tobacco was spilled on the floor.

"You know a great deal, Mr.Gerald Ffrench.Do you accuse me of my sister's murder?""No," answered Gerald."She died from natural causes.But I do accuse you of fraudulently withholding this property from its rightful owners, and of acting on a power of attorney which has been cancelled by the death of the giver."There was a moment's silence, broken only by a muttered oath from Vincenza as he threw the unfinished cigarette to the ground, and began to roll another, this time with better success.It was not till it was fairly alight that he spoke again.

Listen to me, young man," he said, "and then judge me as you hope to be judged hereafter--with mercy.My sister was very dear to me;I loved her, O God, how I loved her!" His voice broke, and Gerald, recalling certain details of Denny's narrative, felt that the Spaniard was speaking the truth.It was nearly a minute before Vincenza recovered his self-command and resumed.

"Yes, we were very dear to each other; brought up as brother and sister, how could we fail to be? But her father never liked me, and he placed restrictions upon the fortune he left her so that it could never come to me.My mother--our mother--had died some years before.Well, Catalina was wealthy; I was a pauper, but that made no difference while she lived.We were as happy and fond a brother and sister as the sun ever shone upon.When she came of age she executed the power of attorney that gave me the charge of her estate.She was anxious to spend a few years in Europe.I was to take her over, and after we had traveled a little she was to go to a convent in France and spend some time there while I returned home.But she was one of the old Costellos, and she was anxious to visit the ancient home of her race.That was what brought us to Ireland.""I thought the Costello family was extinct," said Gerald.

"The European branch has been extinct since 1813, when Don Lopez Costello fell at Vittoria; but the younger branch, which settled in Mexico towards the end of the eighteenth century, survived until a few months ago--until Catalina's death, in fact, for she was the last of the Costellos.""I see," said Gerald; "go on."