"
With an effort Harcourt threw off his bewildered incredulity and grasped
the situation. He would have to contend with his enemy in the flesh and
blood, but that flesh and blood would be very weak in the hands of the
impassive girl beside him. His face lightened.
The same idea might have been in Clementina's mind when she spoke again,
although her face had remained unchanged. "I do not see why YOU should
bother yourself further about it," she said. "It is only a matter
between myself and him; you can leave it to me."
"But if you are mistaken and he should not be living?"
"I am not mistaken. I am even certain now that I have seen him."
"Seen him!"
"Yes," said the girl with the first trace of animation in her face.
"It was four or five months ago when we were visiting the Briones at
Monterey. We had ridden out to the old Mission by moonlight. There were
some Mexicans lounging around the posada, and one of them attracted my
attention by the way he seemed to watch me, without revealing any more
of his face than I could see between his serape and the black silk
handkerchief that was tied around his head under his sombrero. But I
knew he was an American--and his eyes were familiar. I believe it was
he."
"Why did you not speak of it before?"
The look of animation died out of the girl's face. "Why should I?" she
said listlessly. "I did not know of these reports then.
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