But now at last she was her own Mistress, alone on her own yacht, thousands of miles away from England and New York. Even Jimmy had gone, poor old worried Jimmy, who had argued with her up to the very moment of his departure the night before in an aeroplane that had been sent up for him from Valparaiso.

“Please take care of yourself,” he begged when all his pleadings that she should go with him had failed.

“I’ll do that. Don’t worry,” Skye answered.

It had been easier to say than for him to believe. Skye knew that from the frown between his eyes and impulsively she pressed her cheek against his.

“Dear Jimmy! You have been so kind to me,” she said. “I won’t forget. I will try to keep out of mischief.”

“Pray Heaven you do,” he said. “But if you are in any trouble, you know where to get hold of me. If I leave the Embassy even for a night or two, I will let you know by telegram exactly where I can be found.”

She waved until the aeroplane was out of sight and then went back to the yacht, guiltily conscious of her relief and with a sense of rising excitement.

Now she could begin to do what she wanted. How tired she was of hearing the eternal croakings of her relations, however well-intentioned they might be!

She had dinner alone and then sat on deck, looking out over the sea gleaming silver beneath the light of the stars.

But as she sat there, she saw against the beauty of the night a man hanging by his neck from a dead tree, his mouth open in agony, his eyes protruding from their sockets.

The kiss of the Devil! What bitter irony there was in those words.

Over and over in her mind she reiterated what had been said by the man with the hawk-like features, the man who, the frightened boy had told her, was called ‘El Diablo’.

Who was he? Where did he live? What was his power?

She saw again the cruel line of his lips, the steel of his eyes and the arrogant assurance of his manner. He had seemed so at ease, so utterly sure of himself, while Jimmy had been humiliatingly humble before him.

El Diablo! A fitting name for a murderer and she knew too that she would never forgive the manner in which he had insulted her.

“Run along like a good little girl!”

Her cheeks flamed in the darkness and she felt the hot anger rise in her throat. If only she could punish him for that!

Then she had an idea. She would expose this man! She would find out all about him, discover what hold he had upon the people, by what assumption of authority he might hang a citizen of Mariposa from a tree and why nothing was done to stop him.