“In the Valley there is a silly weak demented creature who pretends to read the future by magic. An altogether atrocious and blood-thirsty female is she. I am not denying that in physical beauty she is beautiful. For beautiful she is, as a centipede is beautiful to those who think centipedes are beautiful. You see what has happened. She has sent Henry and Leoncia out of the Valley by some secret way, while Francis has elected to remain there with her in sin——for sin it is, since there exists in the valley no Catholic priest to make their relation lawful. Oh, not that Francis is infatuated with the terrible creature. But he is infatuated with a paltry treasure the creature possesses. And this is the Gringo Francis you have welcomed into the bosom of your family, the slimy snake of a Gringo Francis who has even dared to sully the fair Leoncia by casting upon her the looks of a lover. Oh, I know of what I speak. I have seen——” A joyous outburst from the hound drowned his voice, and he beheld Francis and the Queen, as deep in conversation as the two who had preceded them, walk down the room. The Queen paused to caress the hound, who stood so tall against her that his forepaws, on her shoulders, elevated his head above hers; while Torres licked his suddenly dry lips and vainly cudgeled his brains for some fresh lie with which to extricate himself from the impossible situation. Enrico Solano was the first to break down in mirth. All his sons joined him, while tears of sheer delight welled out of his eyes. “I could have married her myself,” Torres sneered malignantly. “She begged me on her knees.” “And now,” said Francis, “I shall save you all a dirty job by throwing him out.” But Henry, advancing swiftly, asserted: “I like dirty jobs equally. And this is a dirty job particularly to my liking.” Both the Morgans were about to fall on Torres, when the Queen held up her hand. “First,” she said, “let him return to me, from there in his belt, the dagger he stole from me.” “Ah,” said Enrico, when this had been accomplished. “Should he not also return to you, lovely lady, the gems he filched?” Torres did not hesitate. Dipping into his pocket, he laid a handful of the jewels on the table. Enrico glanced at the Queen, who merely waited expectantly. “More,” said Enrico. And three more of the beautiful uncut stones Torres added to the others on the table. “Would you search me like a common pickpocket?” he demanded in frantic indignation, turning both trousers’ pockets emptily inside out. “Me,” said Francis. “I insist,” said Henry. “Oh, all very well,” Francis conceded. “Then we’ll do it together. We can throw him farther off the steps.” Acting as one, they clutched Torres by collar and trousers and started in a propulsive rush for the door.