Making money got to be my passion. It was the only thing I
cared for--except my girls--and it was the only thing that made me
forget."

"Please don't think you've got to tell me any more."

"Yes, I want to. I don't know how much I'm worth to-day." And then in a
confidential whisper--"I couldn't tell within half a million or so, but
I guess it ain't far short of ten millions, Beth. You're the only person
in the world outside the Treasury Department that knows how much I'm
worth. I'm telling you. I've never told anybody--not even Peggy. And the
reason I'm telling you is because, you've got to know, because I can't
sleep sound yet, until I straighten this thing out with you. It didn't
take much persuading for Mr. Nichols to show me what I had to do when
he'd found out, because everything I've got comes from money I took from
you. And I'm going to give you what belongs to you, the full amount I
got for that mine with interest to date. It's not mine. It's yours and
you're a rich girl, Beth----"

"I won't know what to do with all that money, Mr. McGuire," said Beth in
an awed voice.

"Oh, yes, you will. I've been thinking it all out. It's a deed by gift.
We'll have to have a consideration to make it binding. We may have to
put in the facts that I've been--er--only a sort of trustee of the
proceeds of the 'Tarantula' mine. I've got a good lawyer. He'll know
what to do--how to fix it."

"I--I'm sure I'm very grateful."

"You needn't be." He paused and laid his hand over hers again. "But if
it's all the same to you, I'd rather not have much talk about it--just
what's said in the deed--to explain."

"I'll say nothin' you don't want said."

"I knew you wouldn't. Until the papers are drawn I'd rather you wouldn't
speak of it."

"I won't."

"You're a good girl. I--I'd like to see you happy. If money will make
you happy, I'm glad I can help."

"You've been very kind, Mr. McGuire--and generous. I can't seem to think
about all that money. It's just like a fairy tale."

"And you forgive me--for what I did----? You forgive me, Beth?"

"Yes, I do, Mr. McGuire. Don't say anythin' more about it--please!"

The old man bent his head and kissed her hand and then with a great sigh
of relief straightened and rose.

"Thank God!" he said quietly. And bidding her good-by he walked from the
room.

CHAPTER XXIII

A VISITOR

The two minutes permitted by the doctor had come and gone. There had
been much to say with too