Tom had an investigation immediately, and nothing whatever was discovered." "A low fever, you say?"

"Yes; following a general feeling of inertia. In every case the patient was apparently ill for three or four days." "And you are living here now?"

"Oh, certainly. Esme Hungerford is staying with us."

"You must not remain any longer. I shall see that you go back to her home tonight. Meanwhile let us go for a drive and try to clear our bewildered senses."

A driver was summoned, and a few minutes later they were rolling smoothly over the roads in a trim little carriage. The open country invited them. Away they went, past spacious residences and alluring parks, over ancient Spanish bridges and through natural avenues of acacia and plantain. Now the native huts smiled at them from embowering thickets of bananas, and countless little children ran across their path, shouting and laughing. Several women passed them, huge cigars in their mouths, flat baskets heaped with fruit upon their heads. Around a crumbling stone church came a young girl wearing a red robe, poising a brown water jar. A group of men chatted amiably of the cock fight on the following Sunday. Then they were alone amid the dark, cool green of the forest, ever sloping to the azure line of sea.

Let us stop somewhere and buy a cocoanut," said the girl suddenly, "it is all the lunch I care about today."

"What is Tom doing with himself now?"

"Still dabbling in paint," she answered with a little laugh. "I admire his energy, and I only wish there was a larger market for Oriental watercolors. I was frightfully indignant yesterday-" She paused, a flush mounting to her cheeks. "What happened?"

"Professor Delmar came over from the Bureau of Science. He said-oh, I can't just tell you-but he almost insinuated poor old Tom had something to do with this frightful business. Do you remember the terms of the will?"

"No. I don't believe I heard anything at all about it."

"You scarcely would, I suppose, but Dad stipulated that the house should be mine unless I married. In that case it would become Tom's. Tom's usual downupon-his-luck attitude would just give certain people the chance to say horrid things if they wanted to, even to go so far as to say he was anxious to hurry me into marriage. Did you ever hear anything so preposterous?"

"It's an outrage," returned the man tersely. "I have no hesitation at all in saying so, knowing Tom Prescott as I do."

"Thank you," said Phyllis gratefully "I knew I could depend on you, Dick." He pressed her hand in silence. "I haven't heard your version of that gallant defence down in Mindanao," she said presently, "perhaps if you will tell me about it I shall be enabled to forget other things."

He complied with the request willingly enough and added a few amusing details concerning the native who had brought the warning.

"It has been impossible to shake him, Phyl. He has become a sort of private bodyguard for me, and my head boy is quite jealous of him."

"Is he with you here?"

"Oh, yes-and creating a real sensaHe is not even semi-civilized, you

tion. see."

The carriage turned up the winding palm-bordered way. At the piazza steps they were met by Esme Hungerford and Tom Prescott, plainly in a state of tense agitation.

"Phyllis!" exclaimed the former at once. "Juan, the cook, died half an hour ago. How do you do, Lieutenant? Have you ever ran up against a more inexplicable mystery? Heavens! The place seems to be bewitched."

"Don't you think these two girls should leave immediately? asked Prescott.

"I certainly do. Get right into the carriage and go back to the Hungerfords, and don't return until we send for you. No need to worry, Phyl, dear; Tom and I will take every precaution. I want to look around a bit, and then we'll go over to the hotel for the night. Good bye, both of you."

When the girls had taken their some what reluctant departure, he addressed Tom briefly. "The servants are all leaving, needleess to say?"

"Oh, yes, indeed; they are attending to Juan now, poor fellow; and in half an hour there will be absolutely no one in the house. Shall we dine at the Army and Navy Club? I haven't any appetite, but I suppose the form must be gone through with. I'm about all in, Stafford."

Dick looked his sympathy. "Cheer up, old fellow," he said kindly, "we'll get to the root of it, all right. By the way, what caused your step-father's death?"

Prescott looked blank for an instant. "By Jove!" he exclaimed, "you're the first person who ever asked that question. The doctor said it was a general breakup, although now that I come to think of it, I believe he evinced the very same symptoms of illness that these Filipinos have done. Isn't it astounding, Dick?"

"It surely is," mused the other. "How did he usually occupy his time, Tom?"

"Oh, just in the same old way. Always pottering among his flowers and butterflies and that kind of thing. He was engaged in some very important research work at the time of his death, I believe, and was bitterly disappointed that he would not be enabled to finish it. Poor old Dad! He was a princely chap."

A long silence followed. When dinner was at length over, Stafford expressed a desire to re-visit the bungalow. "I should like to go in alone if you don't mind, Tom," he said, "and you can wait for me in the garden."

"Don't mind if I do; I will confess that I am beginning to think of the house as a hideous nightmare. I'll stay within hearing, of course."

Stafford at once made his way to the room which had been formerly occupied by Dr. Oaks. It was in perfect order and there was nothing about it to suggest the unusual. Baffled, he stood staring at the different articles of furniture for a moment or two, and then he turned and passed swiftly towards his study. The latter was a delightful room, large and airy, with windows that opened from floor to ceiling upon a veranda lavishly

of

adorned with flowers. The floor was bare and polished; there were bamboo chairs and numerous bookcases, a table with papers methodically arranged, and a huge begonia growing in a brass cauldron-a quivering mass of diminutive pale pink blossoms, like fairies dancing. There were glass specimen-cases pressed plants and butterflies, and a small cabinet containing various glass retorts and chemicals. The veranda beyond was shaded by a magnificent vine of purple bourgainvillia, and its long boxes were rife with jasmine, cannas and lilies. While Stafford stood intently watching, a small gray object scuttled over the ceiling above his head, the harmless variety of lizard to be seen in almost any Filipino house.

He was about to leave, and then something prompted him to turn once more. From a further, darker corner, an exquisite miracle bloomed upon the silence. It was a rare orchid, planted in a large porcelain box, though it had twined itself closely around the latticed windows, and spread afar its aerial roots. For one moment he stood in mute admiration. Its blossoms were like tiny birds of pure apple green, vividly splashed with crimson. They hovered amid the twilight of the room as if in sheer ecstacy.

When he entered the garden again he found Dr. Delmar talking with Prescott. He was a small, wiry man, one who gave the impression of being ever on the alert.

"A bad business, Stafford," he said by way of greeting. "What have you to say about it?"

"I am utterly at a loss. By the way, did not nearly six weeks elapse between Dr. Oaks' death and that of the first servant?"

"Yes-- exactly."

"And was the study very much occupied during that interval, Prescott?"

"Not to any extent," returned the young man wearily, "but the week before the first boy died he was in there a very great deal, sweeping and cleaning up and putting things to rights generally."

"And after his death his work was done by another boy, I suppose?"

"Yes-and by the very fellow who was next taken ill. By George! I see what

you mean. All of these chaps have been busied in that room a considerable part of their time (there was really a lot of straightening to attend to), and it has been they who suffered. The other servants were immune."

"Therefore," concluded Delmar briefly, "the mystery must certainly exist within the late profeessor's study. So much to work on."

"It strikes me as being very slender data," interposed the lieutenant, "a botanical atmosphere is an innocent one, as a rule."

"Oh, not always. You forget the possibility of poisonous insects, or-"

"The medical men discussed that phase," put in Tom Prescott, "and were unanimous in saying that death could not be traceable in either of the three instances to any such cause."

"Hum-hum," mused Dr. Delmar. "Well, then, that theory is disposed of. Now for a second one

He had many of them at his command, it appeared, but they were frustrated without exception. The three men repaired to the hotel and continued the discussion until a late hour. Morning found them, if possible, in a greater state of bewilderment than ever.

About 10 o'clock Stafford had a short telephone conversation with Phyllis, as he felt a disinclination to see her until he had something definite to say regarding the events that had just transpired. Then he walked in the direction of the Oaks' bungalow. As he quitted the grounds of the hotel, however, his glance fell upon the young tribesman dreaming away the hours under an hibiscus hedge. "Come, my boy," he called tersely, "I don't believe it would be a half bad idea to take you with me."

The fellow was at his side in a moment, his dark face aglow with happiness. As they proceeded on their way Lieutenant Stafford told him, in a queer AngloSpanish, something of the mystery that engrossed him. The servant listened eagerly, but it was difficult to ascertain with what degree of comprehension. When they arrived at the house he followed his master into the study like an obedient dog, and then began an indolent

survey of the room. Pausing near the orchids, he inhaled a breath of their odor and gave vent to an unintelligible exclamation.

"What is it?" demanded the lieutenant sharply.

The native made a rapid gesture. "This thing, Senor-it not smell so in my country-it not good."

Like a flash the soldier was beside him. "What! It is poisonous?"

The other shook his head, vastly puzzled. "No, no, Senor. Him very nice flower; very good smell. In other place, yes. No good here."

"What the deuce are you driving at? Do you mean that a man should not keep a plant like that in the house?" "Senor not understand plant good plant not the same." While the soldier looked on perplexedly he touched it with an awe-inspiring finger. "Must make bad inside. Other plant not same."

Steps sounded behind them and Stafford turned quickly to confront Prescott and Delmar. "Tell him to go on," said the profeessor at once, "I believe we have found our clue."

The native, divining the import of the words, severed a flower with his curious, tall sword. It fell on the table beneath and lay there in its pale green glory like the humming bird it resembled, with the blood-red gash upon it like a wound. Pointing with his weapon to the inner heart of the blossom, they noted a peculiar brownish tinge, spreading slowly upwards from the calyx.

"Is it some deadly variety?" asked Prescott.

"No," returned Professor Delmar, "it is a moth orchid of the genus Phalaenopsis. It is exceedingly hard to cultivate, and Dr. Oaks was quite justly proud of it. Usually the odor is sweet and powerful. This wild fellow at once detected something strange about it, though, and because of that, and the peculiar hue it is now assuming, I am led to believe that it has been treated with chemicals, possibly by Dr. Oaks, and with some experimental purpose in view.

"Awful chump I've been," said Tom Prescott suddenly and in a very contrite voice. "I distinctly remember Dad telling

me, possibly a year ago, that he was possessed of a strong desire to know what effect certain drugs would have upon certain plants."

They looked at each other in surprise and trepidation.

"The effeect has been more far-reaching than he could ever have dreamed it would be," said Delmar at last. "He has possibly instilled poison through this brilliantly-colored pouch- the labellum, we call it by means of a camel's-hair brush. The result has been to produce a peculiarly noxious gas, whose odor has been disguised both by the heavy scent of the orchid itself and all these other flowers. It has proved fatal to the persons who were in contact with it so very frequently, and was, I fear, the real cause of our poor friend's death, though he evidently never suspected it. May I suggest that the plant be cut down immediately and enclosed in glass, Mr. Prescott? It will afford great interest to my colleagues at the Bureau-with the aid of rubber gloves and glass masks-he added significantly.

When they were leaving the apartment he held out his hand to Prescott. "I want to apologize; I will confess that I hadhad entertained doubts-"

"As I should probably have done in your position, sir," returned the young man frankly. "I beg of you not to refer to it again."

"And, Dick," Phyllis Oaks said very softly when they were alone together that evening, "we will never let that splendid young barbarian go away from It takes a true son of nature to interpret her secrets, doesn't it? Oh, how invaluable he has been to both of us!"

us.

His arm encircling her and his lips brushing her hair, they gazed out into the velvet tropic darkness to where, beneath a flowering tree, the young tribesman lay peacefully strumming upon some crudely devised instrument. Its jangling music came to them plaintively, while he, all unconscious, was dreaming of the stars above his mountain village and the pleasant, murmuring voices of his own people.

T

|RUXTON arrived in Guanajuato at eleven P. M., by the Mexican Central and went at once to the hotel to sleep off the effects. He found the hotel surprisingly crowded. Two years ago when he had passed through the town, he had been offered the whole second floor for his one night's stay. But tonight he was told, with many apologies and in English of the most broken, that a bed at the end of the hall, with a screen in front of it, was the utmost that could be done for him.

"But why?" he questioned, incredulous. "What's the excitement?"

There was only one answer from proprietor to bell boy, "la fiesta!"

Truxton was too sleepy to argue. After a day on the Mexican Central, bed anywhere was an open door to paradise. He tumbled in.

The next morning when Truxton emerged from behind the screen, refreshed and fit, he began to learn the true meaning of those words, "la fiesta!" The square outside was brilliant with the national colors and thronged with Mexicans in their really wonderful holiday best. A generous sprinkling of tourists in more sober attire gave a background. The doors of the shops about the square were open, but not for business, oh, no! Papa and mamacita with half a dozen of their progeny, stood in these front doors, absorbed completely in the pageant of color and movement outside. All attempts to do business with any of them failed -his business being to ascertain their attitude of mind toward the possible establishing of an ice and cold storage plant. Today there was only one attitude of mind in all Guanajuato "la fiesta!"

2

Plainly there was nothing to do but enjoy himself. Truxton was wonderfully whole-hearted in whatever he undertook. In a few moments he had become one of the throng in the square, a prince among revelers, squeezing out of each hour as it passed its last drop of pleasure.

This was at ten o'clock. At twelve he was heading a procession down the principal streets in an effective spiral learned at his university. At two o'clock he was self-appointed yell-leader for a thousand or more people gathered to witness the games and races. He guided their ragged but enthusiastic cheering through the pauses left by the Mexican band. At three o'clock he found himself in need of liquid refreshment and visited a booth by the grandstand.

"This is a great day!" he remarked to a young fellow at the bar beside him. For some reason their arms were about each others shoulders, there seemed to be a newly discovered but extraordinary bond of sympathy between them, they were as brothers.

The young man smiled radiantly, with many white teeth. "Today? Yes, but manana-tomorrow-ah, manana!" Truxton looked at him earnestly. Was there more to come?

"Why tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow they open las compuertasah-muy fino!-the gates!" "The gates?"

"Si, senor, las compuertas." Truxton turned to the man at the bar. "What does he think he means?"

"Dam gates," said the bar-tender. "Dam's just above the town. Once a year when the dam gets full the gates down have to be opened. Water runs the hillside wending its way, riffling