“Were you sure? Was there anything to warrant your doing what you did. You at once told him everything. He might have ruined all.” “Why, my dear, have you, too, turned against me! Farbush has gibed at me for the past week for that mistake, and though Hong says little, I know he holds it over my head.” Then Kenyon heard a sudden rustling of skirts, an ejaculation; a succession of kisses and a smothered flood of endearments. Finally Anna’s voice was heard, saying: “But let them plot and struggle! What do we care? We have what we want--what we have always wanted. It does not make any difference to us who succeeds to Stephen Austin’s business, now.” There was a great rustling of paper, as though someone had plunged eager hands among a heap of loose sheets. “Five hundred thousand dollars!” came the girl’s voice, high and triumphant. “A half million of money.” “Not money, my dear, but something just as serviceable. Negotiable securities. How fortunate you heard old Stephen trying to tell Dallas where they were that day while he lay dying.” “I did not dream that she understood. I almost died upon the night I met that man upon the stairs, for then I understood that she had told him.” “Ah, woman’s intuition!” cried Forrester in delight, while Kenyon’s shoulders shook sardonically. “And so when we found the safe opened and the securities gone, you knew the very place to look for them.” They both laughed at this; then there were more endearments. “It would be interesting and perhaps somewhat profitable,” mused Kenyon, as he patiently waited, “to know just how little acuteness and how much chance there is mingled with the majority of successful moves. I think I’d back the latter to win.” “But in spite of all our good luck,” said Anna, after a time, “I cannot help dreading the coming of Hong Yo and Mr. Farbush. Oh, my dear, why did we not continue on. We could have left the country, and they would never have known where we had gone.” “But think of the continuous suspense that we should have been in; we should forever be fearing pursuit. No, no; trust me! The way I have selected is the best. They can do us no harm.” “No harm? They may murder you! You know what they are. And you cannot even defend yourself.” “But I have _others_ engaged who can defend me.” Forrester laughed, but Kenyon noted that it was forced and husky. “Oh, this birth-curse,” the man proceeded, a species of despair now in his voice. “The mere thought of blood makes me smother with fear.” “Humph!” was the listening adventurer’s silent comment. “The blood-horror was not a bluff, after all. What a peculiar situation.” Apparently it was fully appreciated by the two in the adjoining room. The girl softly murmured her sympathy, and the man said, in a lowered tone: