His moment had indeed been worth waiting for.  It even went far to atone for the sense of injury under which he smarted; for the banker was stricken speechless, and his daughter went deathly white.  Her eyes began to fill with horror.

Garavel was the first to recover himself.  “Infamous!  It is unbelievable!  The wretch, then, had betrayed his friend.”

“He is indeed a villain.  That much I have always known.”

“It is a lie!” said the girl, quietly.  She had risen and was standing straight, a tragic little figure.

“Gertrudis!” her father admonished.  “You hear what Ramon has said.”

“Yes!” said Ramon.  “He deceived Senor Cortlan’ very nicely; it had been going on for months.”

“It is a lie!” she repeated.  “He loved no one but me.”

“Gertrudis!” The banker was shocked beyond measure at what he considered his daughter’s jealousy.  “Those are not nice words.  He told you so, yes; but if he would betray his best friend, he would deceive you also.  It was our great good-fortune to be done with him in time.  You will see now that I did well in sending him off—­ eh, Chiquita?”

“No!  I do not believe you.”

Ramon had not counted upon such a spirit, and, his anger getting the better of him, he sneered:  “I should not have spoken.  I did not know you still care.”

“She does not care,” Garavel declared, loudly.

“Ah, but I do.  I love him very dearly.”

The two men were upon their feet in an instant, staring at her, the elder in amazement, the younger with rage and resentment blazing from his countenance.

“Silence!” thundered the banker.  “Yonder stands your affianced husband.”

“It is a mistake—­” she persisted, gently.

“No, no, no!  There is no mistake,” chattered Ramon.  “Those other men have told all, and your Ant’ony is now in the Carcel under guard.  It was I who saw to his arrest.”  The slender figure swayed, a tiny olive hand fluttered to her breast.

“Ramon, you must not heed her, she is upset.  This is but a girl’s foolish fancy, and it will pass.  The man was handsome, and he cast a spell over her.”

“Nor is that all,” Ramon ran on, excitedly.  “He is not at all the man he pretended to be, even his name is false.  This morning there arrived an American officer of police to arrest him on other charges.  He is a thief, it seems, having stolen eighty thousand dollars ‘gold’ from his employers.  Oh, there is no mistake.  Within the hour I have been talking with this detective, and he has the papers of proof.  It will be in the newspapers, every one will know shortly.  Last night, when Senor Cortlan’ made his accusation, there was a frightful quarrel, and Ant’ony swore to kill him.  At dawn the poor husband is found shot on the sea wall.  Is not that enough?”

“It is indeed!” gasped the father.  “You see, then, my child, from what you were saved.  This should be a day of thanksgiving to you as it is to me.  For this deliverance I shall erect a cross of stone on the hill by our house, so that all our lives we may offer a prayer when our eyes rest upon it.  Come, now, it is Ramon who has unmasked this person.  Have you no thanks to give him?”