Photoplay (Oct 1917 - Mar 1918)

58 Photoplay Magazine Hasta la vista — "Until we meet again." A caress that was at once a menace had lurked in the Americano's bold, avid, confident eyes. Passionate hatred surged up within her. He had prophesied that sometime she should sing for him! Then before that day came, might the good God take from her her voice and leave her dumb forever! If Juan had only been there beside her, at the church doors! But Juan — ? The girl sighed. Her lover, whose passion for gambling had scandalized the good padre and led him to forbid their banns until Juan forswore the dice, had not since taken communion and heavy were the penances awaiting his tardy contrition. At their last meeting, Juan had passionately reavowed his love for her, and assured her that within a week he would give the required promise to the padre, but first he must try his luck once more. He had boasted of a change of fortune, hinting at a hacienda for their future home, with broad orchards of grape-fruit and limas instead of the adobe village dwelling they had planned. Why had Juan been so confident, so sure? The Americano was forgotten in the troubled thoughts which assailed her. She had seen Juan frequently with a stranger who spoke in odd guttural tones, of whom it had been whispered in San Miguelito that he was a spy, an enemy of that great country north of the Rio Grande. Could the luck of which Juan had spoken be connected with that man and his despicable calling? Two days longer she waited in feverish anxiety and then Juan appeared at her father's casa. "Conchita mia! It has seemed long without thee but it is over! I gamble no more!" There was exultation in his tone but as he embraced her he averted his ardent brown eyes and a curious flush spread beneath the tawny pallor of his. cheeks. 'Ah, Juan, but my heart sings!" Her own eyes were luminous with joy as they sought his. "And tomorrow thou wilt go to the good padre and confess — " His arms dropped from about her and he turned away with an uneasy laugh. "How like a woman! You do not even ask, Carita, if I have lost or won! " "Had you lost every peso, Juan, what matter? So that you play no more with cards or dice! " "It is done. But I have won. Conchita, won! See!" He drew a wadded handkerchief from his pocket and spread it out upon the table showing the coins heaped within it. "Gold! Gold for the hacienda and for you, my beloved! For a necklace of opals and silk dresses and a mantilla from Old Spain! For the padre's fee and the wedding feast — " But Conchita was scarcely listening. She was staring at the money piled before her and her breath came in a little frightened gasp. "So much! "she whispered. "It is wealth, but what game is this in which the stakes are so high? Juan, tell me!" He shrugged. What matter, since I won? All is fair — " Juan paused and wheeled about suddenly, his face paling. The door had opened silently and upon the threshold two men stood regarding them. One was short and swarthy, the other tall and immaculately clad in white flannels with a straw hat which he removed as he bowed in ironic greeting. "A Branded Soul" ^J ARRATED by permission from the photoplay of the same name, written by E. Lloyd Sheldon and produced by Fox. Cast as given in the picture. Conchita Cordova. ... Gladys Brockwell John Ronnie Lewis J. Cody Juan Mendoza Colin Chase Dona Sartoris Vivian Rich Dolores Mendoza Gloria Payton Neil Mathews Fred Whitman Adolf Uylie Barney Furey Conchita gave a little cry and then stood as if turned to stone. It was the Americano, John Rannie! ■ "Your pardon, Senorita, for invading your home and intruding upon this happy reunion, but I have business with Juan Mendoza, here." He drew a folded paper from his pocket and held it out to the man who confronted him in half-shrinking bravado. 'You recognize this document?" Mechanically Juan took the proffered paper and glanced at it. "No, Senor." He spoke through set teeth. "I have not seen this before." "It was brought by a spy, disguised as a tamale vendor, from the army encampment across the border. The traitor there has been apprehended and has confessed." There was a hard ring in the Americano's tones. "This spy was suspected before he started on his iourney and followed by my agent. Pedro, is this the man?" He turned to his swarthy companion who nodded and stepping forward laid his hand upon Juan's arm. The latter shook him off with an oath. "It is a lie!" he snarled. "A trick of this pig of an Americano! Conchita, you will believe — ?" Rannie pointed to the little heap of gold upon the table. "There is the price the German paid you for your despicable job. You delivered the other documents to your master, but this one fell into my hands. The game is up, Mendoza." "Juan!" Conchita's lips barely framed the word. "Is this true? Is this the luck of which you spoke?" "Quien sabe?" He shrugged but his eyes blazed with sudden passion. "The Americanos are not our people! If I am employed to buy what one of them is willing to sell, have I not the right?" Conchita shrank as if he had struck her a blow. "A spy!" she faltered. "You — a spy! Madre de Dios!" "It was for thee, carita mia!" Juan's voice broke. 'The cursed dice — I was ruined, I would have lost thee! The German offered me good pay and there was little risk — my last gamble! For thee, Conchita!" He held out his hands but the girl stood as if stunned, staring straight before her with unseeing eyes. After a moment Juan's hands dropped to his sides and he squared his shoulders with the old reckless despairing gesture. "My last gamble," he repeated, "and I have lost once more! Come, I am ready to pay!" Rannie motioned peremptorily toward the door and unresisting, Juan turned andleft the house with Pedro at his heels. Slowly Conchita roused herself and turned dazed eyes upon the Americano. "What will you do to Juan?" she asked. "Need you ask, Senorita?" Rannie made a significant gesture. "You have seen other traitors shot, there in the plaza." A sudden wail issued from her pale lips. "Ah, no! Por Dios, not that! You will not, Senor, you cannot! If it is true that he did this thing for me I am equally guilty! Punish me, but spare him! You granted me a favor in the churchyard on Sunday, hear me now! He is so young to die! Senor, see! I will beg you on my knees." He stepped quickly toward her and into his narrowed eves there came again that eager, avid gleam which had