Searle, in the meantime, having gone straight to the “Laughing Water” claim from Glenmore Kent, had remained three days away from Goldite and had taken no time to write.  When he came at last the girl’s suspicions were thoroughly aroused.  That the man was a dangerous trickster, a liar, and perhaps a scoundrel she was rapidly becoming convinced.

He arrived at the house in the late afternoon while Mrs. Dick and Beth were engaged together in the dining-room, sewing at a quilt.  The meeting was therefore a quiet one and Beth escaped any lover-like demonstrations he might otherwise have made.

Mrs. Dick, in her frank dislike of Bostwick, finally carried her work upstairs.

“Well, well, sweetheart!” Bostwick exclaimed.  “You must have heard the news, of course.  I expect your congratulations!”

He rose and approached her eagerly.  She was standing.  She moved a chair and placed herself behind it.

“I suppose you mean the claim you’ve—­taken,” she said.  “You’re elated over that?”

“Good Lord! aren’t you?” he answered.  “It’s the biggest thing I’ve ever done!  It’s worth a million, maybe more—­that ‘Laughing Water’ claim!  And to think that Van Buren, the romantic fool, putting marble slabs on the graves of the demi-monde, and riding about like a big tin toreador, should have bought a property on reservation ground, and lost it, gold and all!”

His relish in the triumph was fairly unctuous.  His jaw seemed to oscillate in oil as he mouthed his contempt of the horseman.

Beth flamed with resentment.  Her love for Van increased despite her judgment, despite her wish, as she heard him thus assailed.  She knew he had placed a stone on Queenie’s grave.  She admired the fearless friendliness of the action—­the token whereby he had linked the unfortunate girl in death to the human family from which she had severed herself in life.

Not to be goaded to indiscretion now she sat down as before with her work.

“And the money—­yours and mine—­did it go to assist in this unexpected enterprise, and not to buy a claim with Glen?”

“Certainly.  No—­no—­not all of it—­certainly not,” he stammered, caught for a moment off his guard.  “Some of my funds I used, of course, in necessary ways.  Don’t you worry about your thirty thousand.  You’ll get it back a hundredfold, from your interest in the claim.”

She glanced up suddenly, startled by what he had said.

“My interest in the claim?”

“Certainly, your interest.  You didn’t suppose I’d freeze you out, my little woman—­my little wife—­to be?  You are one of the company, of course.  You’ll be a director later on—­and we’ll clean up a fortune in a year!”

She was exceedingly pale.  What wonder Van had a grievance!  He had doubtless heard it all before he came that night to deliver Glen’s letter from Starlight.  He might even have thought she had sent him to Glen to got him away from his claim.