Cutter began tumbling out upon the floor an assortment of clothing, evincing little respect for the Mexican’s finery.  Suddenly, when his hands had gone to the bottom, he sat back upon his heels, a leaping light in his eyes.

“Caught with the goods on, by God!” he cried.  “Look here, Struve!”

He had whipped out a canvas bag which gave forth the chink of gold.  Another came after it.  And across each bag was stamped “Packard Springs Bank.”

Del Rio’s eyes had wandered a moment to Cutter and the evidence.  Then they came back to Norton, filled with black malevolence.  One did not need to understand the southern language to grasp the meaning of the words muttered under his breath.

Within the half-hour Strove, Cutter, and Engle had apologized to Norton; after this, they promised him to keep their hands off and their mouths shut.

That evening Virginia and Norton sat long together on Struve’s veranda.  There was more silence than talk between them.  Norton seemed abstracted; the girl was plainly constrained, anxious, and found it difficult to keep her mind upon the thin thread of conversation joining their occasional remarks.  Abruptly, out of one of their wordless intervals, she said quickly: 

“Congratulate me on being a rich woman!  I got a check from an old, almost forgotten, patient to-day.  A hundred dollars, all in one lump!  It’s a fortune in San Juan, isn’t it?”

Norton laughed with her.

“I feel like spending it all in a breath,” she ran on.  “I went right away to Mr. Engle and had him cash it so that I could see what five twenty-dollar gold pieces looked like.  And I chinked them and played with them like a child!  Do you think I am growing greedy for gold in my old age? . . .  You ought to see them piled up, though; five twenties.  Isn’t gold a pretty thing?  I’ve a notion to go get them and show them to you; they’re right on my table ...”

She broke off suddenly, her hand on his arm.

“Did you see some one out there at the corner of the house?” she asked quickly.  “Do you think . . .”

Then she laughed again and settled back in her chair.

“Already thinking somebody is going to steal my gold!  My five twenties.  Just to punish myself I am going to leave them on my office table all night; do you suppose I’ll be wondering all the time if somebody is crawling in at a window and taking them?”

Five minutes later she said good night and left him.

“I’ll be up early in the morning,” she said laughingly.  “Just to make sure that my gold is there!”

An hour later Virginia Page, sitting fully dressed in the darkness of her bedroom, got quietly to her feet and went to the door leading to her office.  With wildly beating heart she stood listening, seeking to peer through the crack of the door she had left ajar.  She had heard the faint, expected sound of some one moving cautiously.