Then the face of the boy before him broke into a disarming smile. “Señor, I am sorry. I did not mean that. Here, shall we not both retract what we have said? Surely you owe me something for having restored your treasure to you? And, after all, why should I have come back if theft were my purpose?” But Don Anabel was already convinced--forced, in spite of himself, to recognize the _caballero_ in another. A younger man of a hated race, he could not let the youth outdo him in courtesy. He capitulated with the grace of which he was master. “Señor Mercer,” he replied with an inclination of his head, “it is as you say. I have the honor, señor, to request that you will give us the pleasure of dining with us tomorrow night? It is too late for our kitchen this evening, I fear.” That would be a great pleasure, Steven replied with an imperturbability that belied the excitement he felt. He accepted the long-coveted invitation not with the unalloyed pleasure which he had thought would be his, but with a burning desire to see Consuelo and to find out for himself whether she, too, had suspected him--whether she had had faith in him. Don Anabel took his departure and Steven sat down to his supper and to thoughts of Consuelo. When he saw her again it would be with a knowledge that he had not had before, if what Hope had told him was still true. He burned to make sure that Consuelo had trusted him, for, after all, he told himself, she knew very little of him. Doña Katarina knocked and entered, bearing a fowl still sizzling from the spit. Steven had been much pleased to find his good landlady returned from Taos, and they chatted now of all that happened during Steven’s absence. Steven told Doña Katarina what had passed between himself and Don Anabel, inquiring if there had been talk in Santa Fe of the loss of the painting. “But yes”--she spread her hands--“of course. What would you? Don Anabel has been near frantic, and all Santa Fe has been busy with the mystery of the theft of the holy painting. Some think that it served the don right for not having presented the painting to the Church long since. “After you left--the latest massacre would have been as nothing. They talked of nothing but the Madonna and the news that the Yankees had packed their wagon wheels with the silver they gained in trading in Santa Fe. Think of that, to escape the _impuestas_, the duties!” Doña Katarina threw back her head and laughed the rich husky laugh of the full-throated Mexican matron. Steven grinned unabashedly with her. “But how was it found out? I am curious to know. It was well done. I know, for I helped them do it!”