"Oh, no, no, certainly not," he hastened to say. "I brought in a man who--who is interested in the purchase we have made." That served to arouse her sense of wonderment at what he had really been doing with her money. He was attempting to deceive her concerning Glen, and perhaps his entire story was a fabrication. "Oh," she said. "Then you have purchased the mine--you and Glen?" "Well--a few minor details remain to be concluded," he said off-handedly. "We are not yet in actual possession of the property. There will be no further hitches, however--and the claim is certainly rich." For the life of her she could not tell what lay at the bottom of the business. The strange conflicts and discrepancies between Glen's very own letters made the riddle utterly obscure. She felt that Searle was fashioning falsehoods in every direction. That he had not visited Glen at all was her fixed conviction. A sudden distrust, almost a loathing for this heavy-browed man, was settling down upon her, inescapably. Someway, somehow she must know about Glen for herself. Her own attempted trip to Starlight had discouraged all thought of further adventure, and no reliance whatsoever could be placed on Searle's reports. Perhaps the reputed mining property was likewise a myth--or if such a property existed, Glen might never have heard of it at all. But Glen's letter--she was always forgetting that letter--the one he had written to Searle. She said: "Where is this mine that Glen has found?" He colored slightly. "We have all agreed not to talk too much about it yet. It's not very far from here--I can tell you that. Precautions are necessary where a hundred men follow every prospector about, night and day, if he happens to have found a bit of valuable ore. A thousand men would be after this property if they knew the way to secure it." Perhaps, after all, Glen, had purposely concealed this matter from herself. Bostwick sounded plausible. Her mind reverted to her brother's illness, for Glen to her was of far more importance than all the mines in Nevada. "I am glad to hear that Glen is _well_," she said, determined on another tack. "He hasn't answered my letter." Once more Bostwick colored, beneath his tan and the gun-metal tint of his jaw. "I suppose he's been too busy," he answered. "Have you written again?" "Not yet," she answered honestly. "I wasn't sure of his whereabouts. You are sure he's in Starlight now?" "Yes--but you needn't write," he hastened to say. "He said he might come, perhaps to-morrow." He rose from his chair. "I've got to hurry off, little girl. These negotiations cannot wait. I'll run in when I can--this afternoon at the latest. I'm glad to see you looking so well." He approached her with lover-like intent. "My heart has been empty and forlorn, away from you, Beth. Surely you have a little--a little something for me, pet? You know how starved----"