"You bet he will. I'm not sure on just what count, but they'll find one that'll fit his case. He's as much a thief as either Knapp or Garland. He knew it wasn't Captain Kidd's treasure; he saw the papers. He can't play the baby act about being ignorant. The way he hid his loot proves that." "Yes," she murmured. "He's a thief all right. He's bad every way." "That's what I wanted you to see. That's why I told you. You can't go on caring now." "No." Her voice was very low. "It puts the lid on that." "You can thank God on your bended knees he threw you down." "Oh, yes," she rocked her head slightly from side to side with an air of morose defiance, "I _can_." "_Do_ you?" said the young man, leaning closer and looking into her face. He was satisfied by what he saw. For a moment the old pride flamed up, a spark in the black glance, a haughty straightening of the neck. "A common thief like him for my lover? Say, you know me, Charlie. I'd have killed myself, or maybe I'd have killed him." Crowder had what he would have called "a hunch" that this might be true. From his heart he exclaimed: "Gee, I'm glad it's turned out the way it has!" "So am I. Only I'm sorry for one thing. It's _you_ that have caught him, not _me_." Crowder laughed. "You Indian!" he said. "You red, revengeful devil!" "Oh, I'm _that_!" she answered, with biting emphasis. "When I get a blow I want to give one. I don't turn the other cheek; I strike back--with a knife if I have one handy." "Well, don't you bother about knives now. The hitting's going to be done for you. All you have to do is to sit still, like a perfect lady, and say nothing." "Um." She paused, mused an instant, and then said: "You're sure you can't be mistaken?" "Positive. Funny, isn't it? It was the paper that gave me the lead. Sort of poetic justice his being landed by that--the paper that had the article about you in it." She looked at him, struck with a sudden idea: "Perhaps it was that article that made him come to see me in the beginning." Crowder smiled. "I guess he wasn't bothering about articles just then. He'd used it to wrap the money in. It was all muddy and ragged, the lower half of the letter gone--the piece about you--got torn out by accident I guess. As I see it he happened to have the paper and when he got the sacks out of the ground, put some of 'em in it. Then when he was in the Whatcheer House he stuffed it in the hole under the floor. It was the handiest way to get rid of it." Soon after that Crowder left, feeling that he had done a good work. The news had had the effect he had hoped it would. She was a different girl. The last glimpse of her, sitting in that same attitude with her hands clasped round her knees, showed her revitalized, alive once more, with something of the old brown and red vividness in her face.