The Pulaskian. (Pulaski Heights [Little Rock], Ark.) 1915-1929, 1918-05-17


his bravely enough, but she could feel
her lips trembling loosely.
Casting aside all pretense, the over
seer exclaimed: "Por ell amor de D1osS
An end to this I know why you sent
for me. You think I have been rob-
bling you. Well, to be honest, so
have. Why should toll as do while
you and those twins live here in lux
ury and idleness, sQuandering money
to which you have no right?"
"Have 1 lost my reason?" gasped the
widow. mo right?'
at least no better right than L
Don't you understand? You have nc
title to these plantations They are
mine, for have paid the taxes out OF
my own pockets now these many
years"
"Taxes What do you meanT
81 paid them. The receipts are in
my name"
"Heavenl Such perfidyl And you
who knew himr'
1.-THE deeds have been lost for so
long that the property would have re-
verted to the crown had it not been
for me- You doubt that, eh? Well, ap.
peal to the court and you will find that
it is true. Now, then, let us be frank.
Inasmuch as we're both In much the
same fix, hadn't we better continue
our present arrangements" He stared
unblinkingly at his listener. "Oh,
mean i'll Is it not better for you to
be content with what my generosity
prompts me to give, rather than to
risk ruin for both by grasping for too
much?"
THE outrage! I warrant you have
grown rich through your stealing"
Isabel's voice had gone fiat with con-
sternation.
"Rieh2 Well, not exactly, but COM
fortably well off," Cueto actually
smiled again. mo doubt my frankness
Is q shock to you. You are angry at
my proposition, Ell? Never mind. You
will think better of it in time, II you
are a sensible woman. But now, since
at last we enjoy such confidential re-
lations, let us have no more of these
miserable suspicious of each other.
Let US entirely forget this unpleasant
misunderstanding and be the same
good friends as before"
Having said this, Pancho Cueto stood
silent moment in polite expectancy;
then receiving no ineligible reply, he
bowed low and left the room.
To the avarieious Donna Isabel Cue
to's frank acknowledgment of theft
was maddening, and the realization
that she was helpless, nay, dependent
upon his charity for her living, fairly
erucified her proud spirit.
All day she brooded, and by the time
evening came she had worked herself
into such a state of nerves that she
could eat no dinner. Some time during
the course of the evening a wild idea
came to Isabel. Knowing that the man.
ager would spend the night beneath
her roof she planned to kill him. At
first it seemed q simple thing to do
merely a matter of dagger or a pis-
toll, while he slept-but further thought
revealed appalling risks and difficult
ties, and she decided to wait. Poison
was far safer.
Constant brooding over the treasure
had long since affected Donna Isabel's
brain, and as a consequence she often
dreamed about it. She dreamed about
it again tonight and, strangely enough,
her dreams were pleasant. Sebastian
appeared, but for once he neither
cursed nor threatened her; and Este
ban, when he came, was again the
lover who had courted her in Ha-
bana. 1t was amazing, delightful.
Esteban and she were walking through
the grounds of the quinta and he was
telling her about his casks of Spanish
sovereigns, about those boxes bound
with iron, about the gold and silver or
naments of heavenly beauty and the
pearls as large as plums. As he talked
Isabel felt herself grow hot and cold
with anticipation; she experienced
spasms of delight.
Then of a sudden Isabel's whole
dream-world dissolved. She awoke, or
thought she did, at hearing her name
shouted. But although she underwent
the mental and the physical shock of
being startled from slumber, although
she felt the first swift fright of per-
son aroused to strange surroundings,
she knew on the instant that she must
still be asleep; for everything about
her was dim and dark, the air was cold
and damp, wet grass rose to her knees.
Before she could half realize her con-
dition she felt herself plunged into
space. She heard herself scream
hoarsely, fearfully, and knew, too late,
that she was indeed awake. Then
whirling chaos A sudden, binding
crash of lights and sounds Nothing
morei
Esteban Varona sat until a late hour
that night over letter which required
the utmost care in its composition. 1t
was written upon the thinnest of pa