I reckon, can fit the proofs and say what's wanted,
later on."

"But why lawyers," continued Padre Pedro, with a slight sneer he could
not repress, "if the child is found and Senor Cranch is satisfied?"

"On account of the property. Business is business!"

"The property?"

Mr. Cranch pressed the back of his knife-blade on his boot, shut it up
with a click, and putting it in his pocket said calmly:

"Well, I reckon the million of dollars that her father left when he
died, which naturally belongs to her, will require some proof that she
is his daughter."

He had placed both his hands in his pockets, and turned his eyes full
upon Father Pedro. The priest arose hurriedly.

"But you said nothing of this before, Senor Cranch," said he, with a
gesture of indignation, turning his back quite upon Cranch, and taking
a step towards the refectory.

"Why should I? I was looking after the girl, not the property,"
returned Cranch, following the Padre with watchful eyes, but still
keeping his careless, easy attitude.

"Ah, well! Will it be said so, think you? Eh! _Bueno_. What will the
world think of your sacred quest, eh?" continued the Padre Pedro,
forgetting himself in his excitement, but still averting his face from
his companion.

"The world will look after the proofs, and I reckon not bother if the
proofs are all right," replied Cranch, carelessly; "and the girl won't
think the worse for me for helping her to a fortune. Hallo! you've
dropped something." He leaped to his feet, picked up the breviary which
had fallen from the Padre's fingers, and returned it to him with a
slight touch of gentleness that was unsuspected in the man.

The priest's dry, tremulous hand grasped the volume without
acknowledgment.

"But these proofs?" he said hastily; "these proofs, Senor?"

"Oh, well, you'll testify to the baptism, you know."

"But if I refuse; if I will have nothing to do with this thing! If I
will not give my word that there is not some mistake," said the priest,
working himself into a feverish indignation. "That there are not slips
of memory, eh? Of so many children baptized, is it possible for me to
know which, eh? And if this Juanita is not your girl, eh?"

"Then you'll help me to find who is," said Cranch, coolly.

Father Pedro turned furiously on his tormentor. Overcome by his vigil
and anxiety, he was oblivious of everything but the presence of the man
who seemed to usurp the functions of his own conscience. "