Adéle did not share my joy. Nature has given woman a faculty of intuition denied to man. Alas! Adéle's presentiment has been verified; your account of the interview between Pepito and his friend proves her fears were well-grounded.'
''In what way?'
''In this way; it shows we have an enemy who has an inkling of our secret, and is striving to snatch the prize from us. What course to take I am at a loss to know. Adéle advises to make sure of Pepito, at any price.'
''And that strikes me as being your surest if not your only course.'
''Yes, the surest; but how to make sure of him?'
''By outbidding your competitors, and proving to him that in adhering to you he is best serving his own interests.'
''But he is base enough to take bribes from both sides, and betray each.'
''Oh! that I were a man!' exclaimed Adéle, 'this fellow is the only one who knows our secret. One man ought not to stand in fear of another. Only one man crosses your path, Arthur.'
''Unless I murder him, how can he be silenced?'
''Murder him! It is not murder to kill a robber. Were I a man, I would not hesitate how to act.'
''The anxiety of Pedro,' I said, 'indicates you have an enemy. Have you any idea who he is?'
''I believe,' said Adéle, 'that I know him.'
''Are you sure there is only one?'
''Why do you ask?' said the woman, fixing her eye upon me as though she would, in spite of every obstacle, read my inmost thoughts.
''Because I fancy there are two, for instance, Brown and Hunt.'
'At the mention of these names Adéle started to her feet, exclaiming:
''On all sides there is treachery. I demand, sir, an explanation. What leads you to associate the name of that firm with this matter? Either you are our friend or you are not. Speak plainly!'
''Madame, by the merest chance, I overheard Pedro mention those names, and since you have given me your confidence, I will give you some information which may put you on your guard, and help to guide your future plans.'
'I then briefly related the conversations I had overheard between General Valiente and Pedro, both on the Alameda and in the gaming-house in the Calle del Arco.
''Now, madame,' I continued, 'let me inquire whether the Mexican from whom you derived your information, had any connection with this firm?'
''Yes, sir, he knew them,' she replied; then, after a slight pause, she added: 'We have already told you so much that it would be folly to conceal the way in which we became acquainted with the existence of this mine. Soon after my marriage, I met a veteran officer of the Mexican army, General Ramiro, then living in exile, at New-Orleans. For me he conceived a paternal affection, and many a time remonstrated with Mr. Percival, and entreated him to devote himself to his family, and abandon the course of life which was leading him to ruin. He often spoke of his desire to return to Mexico, and lived constantly in the hope of the decree being revoked, which had driven him into exile. One day he disclosed the chief cause of his desire to return, by revealing the secret we have imparted to you.'
''Pardon me, madame,' I said, 'but tell me how General Ramiro gained his information? Exploring for opal mines is hardly part of the duties of a General, even in Mexico.'
''I was about to explain that,' replied the lady. 'An Indian, convicted of murdering a monk, some three years previously, was condemned to death. On being taken, according to Mexican usage, on the eve of execution, to the confessional, he refused the slightest attention to the exhortations of the priests, affirming that he had written a letter to the Governor, which would secure his pardon.
''True enough, a party of dragoons arrived during the night, and took him away. The letter was addressed to General Ramiro, then acting as Governor, and contained promises of a revelation of the highest importance.
''When conducted to the General, the Indian proved, by a host of details, the existence of an opal mine, which he had accidentally discovered, and in return for the revelation, demanded a free pardon.'
''I understand, perfectly, madame,' I added, seeing Adéle hesitate.
''I feel,' she said, 'a certain reluctance at this portion of my narrative, for it forces me to lay bare an act which General Ramiro ever after regretted, and which—' ''Madame, I will spare you the recital; the fact is, the General gained the Indian's secret, and then—unfortunately for the Indian—forgot to fulfill his promise.'
''Alas! sir, you have rightly judged. Two hours after the interview, the Indian suffered the garrote, and General Ramiro became the sole possessor of this important secret. I will not attempt to justify my venerable friend. He sincerely lamented his sin, and retribution followed him with long, sad years of exile and poverty. We often sat together for hours, he talking of his wonderful mine, and longing for his recall to his native land. His enemies, however, held a firm hold of government, and growing weary of delay, he made overtures to this firm of Brown and Hunt, through their correspondents in New-Orleans. Being sadly in want of funds, he was even mad enough to give a hint of some kind, relative to an opal mine, which was to be worked by them on joint account.
''Before any definite arrangement was perfected, an event occurred which is indelibly impressed on my memory. The General, after spending a portion of the afternoon with us, had returned to his home; and about eleven at night, a messenger begged my immediate attendance on him. He had been taken suddenly ill; and my husband, who was cognizant of the paternal affection the General felt for me, urged me to hasten to his bedside.
''I found him at the point of death; but my presence seemed to call him back to life. 'My child,' said he, placing in my hands a very voluminous letter, 'this is all I have to give you. Farewell, dear child, I am going. Farewell, forever.' In a few moments he was no more. I returned home a prey to the most intense grief, and for several days did not think of opening the letter I had received from my dying benefactor. It contained the most precise details of the situation of the opal mine, and advice as to the best means of reaching it.
''So you see, Mr. Rideau,' she added, after a slight pause, 'the secret is known only to three persons—Arthur, Pepito, and myself. What, under the circumstances, would you do?'
''I see but one course, madame—prompt action; by this means only can you hope to succeed. You should start without a day's delay.'
''And Pepito?'
''Take him with you.'
''Your advice would be excellent were it practicable; but the state of Mr. Livermore's health will not permit him to travel.'
''Oh! never fear, Adéle; your presence and your care will keep me up. I shall gain strength by change of air and scene.'
'Adéle was, probably, about to protest against such a proof of his attachment, when she was interrupted by a knock at the door.
''It is Pepito,' said I. My conjecture proved correct. Opening the door, the Mexican appeared, dressed in a new suit, and evidently not a little proud of his external improvements. He bowed politely to Mr. Livermore and myself, and then bending before Adéle, took her hand and raised it with true Mexican grace, to his lips.
''You arrive, Pepito,' said Adéle, 'at the very moment we are talking about you.'
'Pepito
