onado. Even if he should kill
Thurstane, that would be a harm rather than a benefit, for his widow would
hate Coronado. If he did any evil deed now, it must be from jealousy or
from vindictiveness. Was murder of any kind worth while? For the time,
whether it were worth while or not, he was furious enough to do it.

If he did not act, he must go; for as everything had miscarried, so much
had doubtless been discovered, and he might fairly expect chastisement.
While he hesitated a glance into the street showed him something which
decided him, and sent him far from Monterey before sundown. Half a dozen
armed horsemen, three of them obviously Americans, rode by with a pinioned
prisoner, in whom Coronado recognized Texas Smith. He did not stop to
learn that his old bravo had committed a murder in the village, and that a
vigilance committee had sent a deputation after him to wait upon him into
the other world. The sight of that haggard, scarred, wicked face, and the
thought of what confessions the brute might be led to if he should
recognize his former employer, were enough to make Coronado buy a horse
and ride to unknown regions.

Under the circumstances it would perhaps be unreasonable to blame him for
leaving his uncle to be buried by Clara and Thurstane.

These two, we easily understand, were not much astonished and not at all
grieved by his departure.

"He is gone," said Thurstane, when he learned the fact. "No wonder."

"I am so glad!" replied Clara.

"I suspect him now of being at the bottom of all our troubles."

"Don't let us talk of it, my love. It is too ugly. The present is so
beautiful!"

"I must hurry back to San Francisco and try to get a leave of absence,"
said the husband, turning to pleasanter subjects. "I want full leisure to
be happy."

"And you won't let them send you to San Diego?" begged the wife. "No more
voyages now. If you do go, I shall go with you."

"Oh no, my child. I can't trust the sea with you again. Not after this,"
and he waved his hand toward the wreck of the brig.

"Then I will beg myself for your leave of absence."

Thurstane laughed; that would never do; no such condescension in _his_
wife!

They went by land to San Francisco, and Clara kept the secret of her
million during the whole journey, letting her husband pay for everything
out of his shallow pocket, precisely as if she had no money. Arrived in
the city, he left her in a hotel and hurried to headquarters. Two hours