I have sought you and why I exult in now standing face to face with you, when I breathe the name of Ernest Stanley!"
"You are Ernest Stanley?"
"I was Ernest Stanley. Now, I am his avenger. Listen to me," commands Van Zandt, as Felton strives to speak. "When the doors of that New England prison closed upon me, nearly three years ago, I swore that I would be avenged upon the scoundrel who put me there. Until a month ago I did not know his name. Until to-day I was not sure that the father was an accomplice to the villainy of the son. But when I did learn who the coward was for whom I suffered I told myself that this world, vast as it is, was too small to hold him and me. Do you understand? You cur! Do you understand?"
Felton glances about the cafe. The soldier at the table near by has again picked up his newspaper and is absorbed in its columns. But any one who might take the pains to investigate would discover that he is not reading the paper. The score or more of others are occupied in their drink, jest and song.
Felton has regained his composure and lights a cigarette with a steady hand.
"Are you aware, Senor Van Zandt, that at one word from me my men would cut you to pieces?" he sneers.
"I know that one such word will mean your instant death," is the stern response.
"Well, I shall not utter it," says Felton, coolly. "I am competent to take care of myself. A moment ago you called me a coward. I will prove to you that I am not. You seek satisfaction?"
A bitter smile flits over Van Zandt's face. "Satisfaction!" he murmurs. "Ay, I demand satisfaction for two years of utter misery and, by heavens, I shall have it!"
"You shall! I swear it!"
"Ah! And when?"
"At once. This is my only opportunity to accommodate you at present, as I am ordered to Cienfuegos to-
