he give me the perfect title and send back
that which belongs, after all expenses, no? To them in New York."

"A pretty scheme. You don't seem to have profited by it greatly, as
yet."

"I, profit? But I am now the beggar, I, poor Antonio. This day I come
from resting in the houses of my friends and I find--what do I find?
The bank is not. The banker is not, yes. His house where he lived more
plain than our adobes at Sobrante, that house is closed. His man tell
me this: 'He has gone away. One little, little trip, a journey. Across
the sea. He will come back. Have patience, Antonio.' But my money? my
papers? my inheritance so all but proved? Tush. He told me not that.
'When he comes back you can ask him, himself.' So. Good. He has come
back. Here. I see him, sure. I----"

A summons to Mr. Hale cut short this fierce harangue, which had been
repeated till their ears were tired.

The banker had come back, indeed, poor creature. By the very train on
which he was to depart with his plunder--all rendered into the solid
cash which would tell no tales, as he fancied--by this swift-moving
juggernaut he was overtaken and crushed down. A moment earlier he would
have been in time. But in haste and by a misstep he had ended all his
earthly journeyings.

When the lawyer was called the reporter followed his friend and Antonio
followed him, and when these three approached the little room in which
the dying man lay, the nurse would have sent them back; but Garcia
himself pleaded: "Let them be. What matters it how many hear or see?
The dress-suit case. Bring it, and bring the child."

They obeyed and he bade them place the key in Jessica's small hand.

"Open it, little one."

But her fingers shook so that the nurse, in pity, pushed them from the
lock and herself unfastened the heavily laden case. It contained no
clothing, such as might have been looked for within; but rolls and
packets neatly tied.

"Open them, child."

"Oh! please! I do not want to; I am afraid!"

"Afraid, Jessica Trent? Do you not yet understand? That is money,
money--of which your father stood accused before the world as having
stolen. Afraid to prove your father what you know him--an honest man!"
cried Ninian in anger.

She understood him then, and in frantic haste obeyed. Roll after roll,
till Mr. Hale said:

"Enough. His strength is failing. This scene is too much for him."

At that she pushed the gold away and, falling on her knees beside the
bed,