The furious Spaniard came in like some wild beast, fairly gnashing his teeth and snarling to himself in his rage.

Clif had but a moment, but he was quick to think; he sprang back to his old position, slipping his feet into the iron ring and putting his hands behind him.

And Ignacio never noticed any difference, in fact he did not look at Clif until he had set down the lantern and shut the heavy door.

He turned the key again and then faced about; touching low and muttering to himself, he stole swiftly across the floor.

And his gleaming eyes flashed into Clif's face.

"Yankee!" he hissed, "I am back. Do you hear me? Ha, ha!"

As if to make sure that he heard him he struck him once more across the face.

"Listen!" he cried. "Ha, ha!—and tremble."

Clif's blood rose at that blow, but he held himself back and watched and waited.

That was a moment of peril for the treacherous Spaniard; what would have been his terror may be imagined, had he known the victim into whose eyes he was glaring was clutching in one hand a sharp knife, ready at any instant to plunge it into him.

But the fellow had no idea of his peril; he was at the very height of his triumph and his dark, beady eyes gleamed ferociously out of the shadows of that damp and silent vault.

But he must have noticed that some of the color had come back into Clif's face.

"You are still defiant," he cried. "You still do not tremble. But wait—wait till you begin to feel what I have for you. Did you see those iron things I brought in? Ha, ha! There is one I will fasten about your forehead and draw it tight till your very brain bursts. And then will you like it? Hey? Will you turn pale then? Will you scream? Ha, ha!—and I shall dance around you and watch you. Will you be sorry you interfered with me then?"

Ignacio might have taunted his victim that way for hours, but he was too eager and impatient. He whirled about and sprang toward the door.

"Santa Maria!" he panted. "I will get it! I will begin! I must hear him yelling!"

And he snatched up something from the floor and taking the lantern in his other hand bounded back toward Clif.

"Are you ready?" he exclaimed. "Yankee pig, begin to scream!"

And he flashed the lantern's light upon him.

That was the crisis of the situation; for as the Spaniard looked he made the appalling discovery that his victim's feet were untied.

And he staggered back, dazed.

"Por dios!" he gasped.

And that exclamation was his last sound.

Clif had nerved himself for the spring; for he knew that Ignacio might have a revolver and that no risks could be taken.

But at that instant a dark, shadowy form rose up behind Ignacio.

And one of his own iron instruments was raised above his head. It came down with a hissing sound, and then a heavy thud.

And Ignacio dropped without a groan, without even a quiver. He lay perfectly motionless. His villainy was at an end.

Clif had sprung up as he saw that, and he gave a gasp of joy. Then he sprang toward his deliverer.

The shadowy stranger took no notice of him at first, but stooped and picked up the lantern, turning the light of it upon Ignacio.

The villain's face was fixed in a look of horror; it made both Clif and the stranger shudder.

The latter regarded it for a moment silently. The cadet could not see, but he was fingering a knife, as if undecided what to do.

Who his mysterious deliverer was Clif had no idea. The single ray from the lantern did not furnish light enough for him to see anything; and the person had spoken but one word—"Fight."

But the cadet's heart was full of gratitude; he sprang toward the stranger.

"Who are you?" he cried. "I owe my life to you—let me thank you!"

But the other motioned him back, and then for a few moments there was a silence, while both stared at Ignacio's silent form.

When the stranger moved it was to point toward the door.

"Go," said he to Clif, in a low, whispering voice. "Go; we will leave him here."

And with that the mysterious person unlocked the great iron barrier and followed Clif out. The door clanged upon that ghastly scene, and Clif Faraday gave a sigh of relief.

Yet there was so much before him that he soon forgot that hideous nightmare.

For where was he going? And who was this stranger? And why had he rescued him? And what did he mean to do to Clif?

Nothing could be learned in that dark corridor, for Clif could see no more there than inside of the room. But the stranger stumbled on and Clif followed.

They came to an iron ladder, leading up to the floor above. Up that the man went, the cadet following; that took them to another long stone passage, dark as ever.

On they went, turning and winding about, but still not hesitating. And then suddenly the man halted in front of a grated door.

The key was in the lock and the door opened promptly as he turned it.

"Enter," said he.

Clif went in, and he heard the door shut behind him. It flashed over him then that he had only been taken to another cell.

But when he whirled about he saw that the stranger had entered, too. The dark figure brushed past him and went across the room. A moment afterward Clif heard him in the act of striking a match.

And then the light of a lamp lit up the little room. By it the eager cadet could see his rescuer, and he stared anxiously.

Further secrecy seemed not intended. The stranger faced about and each looked at the other steadfastly.

What the mysterious man saw was a tall, handsome American in a blue uniform, his face rather pale.

Clif in turn saw also a man in a blue uniform; he had to take but one glance to see that he was a lieutenant in the Spanish army.

He was a tall, finely proportioned man, rather young, and with a slight dark mustache. He had the dark skin and the features of a Spaniard; but Clif............