She rose and listened--no stir, no sound of life reached her: she glanced at her lamp, now dim--the light was waning, and softly stepping across the room, she drew from a basket several bundles of paper.

These she tore in pieces, and placing them beside the door, drew the lamp near.

Inez carefully twisted up her long black hair, and placed on her head a broad sombrero, which the Don had worn of late; then taking his Mexican blanket, she slipped her head through the opening, and suffered it to fall to her feet.

Something seemed forgotten, and after some little search, she found a small cotton bag, into which she dropped a polonce, then secured it beneath the blanket.
Queerly enough she looked, thus accoutered; but apparently the oddity of her appearance never once crossed her mind, for, stepping across the floor, she held the pieces of paper over the lamp till ignited, then quickly thrust them one by one between the small crack or chink in the center of the door.

It was of wood, old and dry, and caught like tinder.