und on his body.
Listen! It is part of my mortification that the story goes that this
man once showed this ring, boasted of it, staked, and lost it at a
gambling table to one of his vile comrades."

"Kanaka Joe," said Cass, overcome by a vivid recollection of Joe's
merriment at the trial.

"The same. Don't you see," she said, hurriedly, "if the ring had been
found on him I could believe that somewhere in his heart he still kept
respect for the woman he had wronged. I am a woman--a foolish woman, I
know--but you have crushed that hope forever."

"But why have you sent for me?" asked Cass, touched by her emotion.

"To know it for certain," she said, almost fiercely. "Can you not
understand that a woman like me must know a thing once and forever? But
you _can_ help me. I did not send for you only to pour my wrongs in
your ears. You must take me with you to this place--to the spot where
you found the ring--to the spot where you found the body--to the spot
where--where _he_ lies. You must do it secretly, that none shall know
me."

Cass hesitated. He was thinking of his companions and the collapse of
their painted bubble. How could he keep the secret from them?

"If it is money, you need, let not that stop you. I have no right to
your time without recompense. Do not misunderstand me. There has been a
thousand dollars awaiting my order at Bookham's when the ring should be
delivered. It shall be doubled if you help me in this last moment."

It was possible. He could convey her safely there, invent some story of
a reward delayed for want of proofs, and afterward share that reward
with his friends. He answered promptly, "I will take you there."

She took his hands in both of hers, raised them to her lips, and
smiled. The shadow of grief and restraint seemed to have fallen from
her face, and a half mischievous, half coquettish gleam in her dark
eyes touched the susceptible Cass in so subtle a fashion that he
regained the street in some confusion. He wondered what Miss Porter
would have thought. But was he not returning to her, a fortunate man,
with one thousand dollars in his pocket! Why should he remember he was
handicapped by a pretty woman and a pathetic episode? It did not make
the proximity less pleasant as he helped her into the coach that
evening, nor did the recollection of another ride with another woman
obtrude itself upon those consolations which he felt it his duty, from
time to time, to offer. It was arranged