"Justice is sometimes very tardy, though in this instance she has not failed.

Handcuffs become this felon; they are his natural jewelry!" "Then you know Don Luis ?" questioned Tom, after an instant's silence.
"I should know Don Luis well," boasted the stranger, drawing himself up proudly.

"Also I know this fellow!" "My father!" cried a startled feminine voice from the doorway.
Then Francesca, her eyes filled with fright, hastened across the porch.

She would have thrown her arms around the neck of the manacled man had not the stranger caught her by one arm and held her back.
"How dare you, senor ?" panted the girl, turning upon the stranger.
"And who are you ?" "Do not touch this felon with your clean hands," warned the stranger, with a sternness that was tempered with gentleness.
"Who are you, senor ?" the girl insisted.
"Can't you guess ?" broke out Tom Reade, wonderingly.

"Senorita Francesca, I helped take care of this man while he was ill in our cook tent.