“Interest?  That’s true.  But if you mean sentiment, Fitz, after once having looked into the depths of those absurd goggles, can you, could you think of sentiment and the beetle man in the same breath?”

“No, I couldn’t,” he confessed, relieved.  “But, then, I never have been able to understand you, Miss Polly.”

“Therein lies my fatal charm,” she said saucily.  “Now, to the beetle man, I’m a specimen.  He understands as much as he wants to.  Probably I shall never see him after to-day, anyway.  He’s going to get a message through for us that will deliver us from this land of bondage.”

“He can’t do it—­too soon for me,” declared Carroll.  “And, Miss Polly, you don’t think the worse of me for having said behind his back what I’m just waiting to say to his face?”

“Not a bit,” said the girl warmly.  “Only I know it’s nonsense.”

“I hope so,” said Carroll, quite honestly.  “I would hate to think anything low-down of a man you’d call your friend.”

Carroll had learned more than he had told, but less than enough to give him what he considered proper evidence to lay before Polly’s father.  After some deliberation as to the point of honor involved, he decided to go to Raimonda, who, alone in Caracuna City, seemed to be on personal terms with the hermit.  He found the young man in his office.  With entire frankness, Carroll stated his errand and the reason for it.  The Caracunan heard him with grave courtesy.

“And now, senior,” concluded the American, “here’s my question, and it’s for you to determine whether, under the circumstances, you are justified in giving me an answer.  Is there a woman living in Mr. Perkins’s quinta on the mountains?”

“I cannot answer that question,” said the other, after some deliberation.

“I’m sorry,” said Carroll simply.

“I also.  The more so in that my attitude may be misconstrued against Mr. Perkins.  I am bound by confidence.”

“So I infer,” returned his visitor courteously.  “Then I have only to ask your pardon—­”

“One moment, if you please, senor.  Perhaps this will serve to make easy your mind.  On my word, there is nothing in Mr. Perkins’s life on the mountain in any manner dishonorable or—­or irregular.”

In a flash, the simple solution crossed Carroll’s mind.  That a woman was there, and a woman not of the servant class, could hardly be doubted, in view of almost direct evidence from eyewitnesses.  If there was nothing irregular about her presence, it was because she was Perkins’s wife.  In view of Raimonda’s attitude, he did not feel free to put the direct query.  Another question would serve his purpose.

“Is it advisable, and for the best interests of Miss Brewster, that she should associate with him under the circumstances?”

The Caracunan started and shot a glance at his interlocutor that said, as plainly as words, “How much do you know that you are not telling?” had the latter not been too intent upon his own theory to interpret it.