Men, women and children began to press toward the group of riders. Dick, first to realize the change in the humor of the mob, spurred alongside Maria-Teresa.

“We must get out of this! Steady, and forward all!”

The Marquis, superbly cool, followed as if reluctant to show his back to any horde of Indians. The menace in the voices grew clearer. He looked round him, and drove his spurs home, till his mount reared and plunged into the crowd, clearing a space around it.

The mob was howling now, and knives were being drawn on all sides, when a giant Indian pushed his way toward the Spaniards. Maria-Teresa, Don Christobal and Dick recognized Huascar, before whom his countrymen made way with evident respect and dread.

“Back!” he shouted, taking the young girl’s mule by the bridle. “Who touches the Virgin of the Sun is a dead man!”

At these words, the crowd parted. Silence succeeded the tumult of a moment before.

“Let the strangers pass,” ordered Huascar, and himself escorted them to the ancient palace gates.

Outside, on the plaza, they met a police patrol. The sergeant, in undertaking to escort them to the inn, was eloquent on their imprudence in coming into a quarter peopled by fanatical Indians on the eve of the Interaymi.

The Marquis wished to thank Huascar, but the Indian had vanished. Maria-Teresa and Dick, both very white, had not a word to say. Uncle Francis was also dumb, and did not take a single note.

At the inn they found only one vacant room, in which they all gathered. Dick was the first to utter the thought which was worrying them all.

“Suppose it was true!”

“Yes, suppose it was true!” repeated Maria-Teresa,

“What? Suppose what was true?” demanded the Marquis, refusing to understand.

“The Virgin of the Sun!”

They were all silent for a moment, bent under the weight of one amazing, absurd, monstrous thought. And they exchanged anxious, frightened looks, like children who are being told some terrifying fairy-tale. Dick broke the spell:

“You heard what Huascar said. ‘Who touches the Virgin of the Sun is a dead man!’ Those were his own words!”

“Just a manner of speech,” hesitated Uncle Francis. “It cannot be anything else.”

“Anything else? What do you mean?” demanded the Marquis violently.

“Well, it could not be... the other thing. If Maria-Teresa was... was the Virgin of the Sun, they would not have let her pass out.”

“Are we all going mad! After all, we are masters here!” burst out Don Christobal. “There are the police, and the troops. All those rascals out there are our slaves. ‘Pon my soul, we are all raving!”

“Of course!” exclaimed Maria-Teresa.

“All the same, I think we ought to get out of Cajamarca as soon as we can,” said Dick, going to the window and looking out Night had fallen, and with it silence. The square outside was deserted.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door, and a servant brought in a letter addressed to Maria-Teresa. She tore it open and read aloud:—“Return to Lima at once. Leave Cajamarca tonight.”

“It is not signed,&............