returned and knew how to climb the wall.  They bore me from among the dead, they gave me food so that my strength came back; but in the night I, who in my wickedness would not live, escaped from them and climbed the pillar of black rock, so that when the sun rose they saw me standing there.  They begged of me to come down, promising to protect me, but I said ‘No,’ who in the evil of my heart only desired to die, that I might join my father and my brother, and one who was dearer to me than all.  They asked of me where the great treasure was hidden.”

At these words Jacob gasped, then rapidly translated them, while the figure before them became silent, as though it felt that for the moment the power of his will was withdrawn.

“Speak on, I bid you,” he said, and she continued, the rich, slow voice dropping word after word from the lips of Benita in the alien speech that this Benita never knew.

“I answered that it was where it was, and that if they gave it up to any save the one appointed, then that fate which had befallen my people would befall theirs also.  Yes, I gave it into their keeping until I came again, since with his dying breath my father had commanded me to reveal it to none, and I believed that I who was about to die should never come again.

“Then I made my last prayer, I kissed the golden crucifix that now hangs upon this breast wherein I dwell,” and the hand of the living Benita was lifted, and moving like the hand of a dead thing, slowly drew out the symbol from beneath the cloak, held it for a moment in the lamplight, and let it fall to its place again.  “I put my hands before my eyes that I might not see, and I hurled myself from the pinnacle.”

Now the voice ceased, but from the lips came a dreadful sound, such as might be uttered by one whose bones are shattered upon rocks, followed by other sounds like those of one who chokes in water.  They were so horrible to hear that Mr. Clifford nearly fainted, and even Jacob Meyer staggered and turned white as the white face of Benita.

“Wake her!  For God’s sake, wake her!” said her father.  “She is dying, as that woman died hundreds of years ago.”

“Not till she has told us where the gold is.  Be quiet, you fool.  She does not feel or suffer.  It is the spirit within her that lives through the past again.”

Once more there was silence.  It seemed as though the story were all told and the teller had departed.

“Benita da Ferreira,” said Meyer at length, “I command you, tell me, are you dead?”

“Oh! would that I were dead, as my body is dead!” wailed the lips of Benita.  “Alas!  I cannot die who suffer this purgatory, and must dwell on here alone until the destined day.  Yes, yes, the spirit of her who was Benita da Ferreira must haunt this place in solitude.  This is her doom, to be the guardian of that accursed gold which was wrung from the earth by cruelty and paid for with the lives of men.”