"Look here," he said, facing Mrs. Conroy in a hard, matter-of-fact way, "do you mean to say that what that man--your husband--said, was true? That he knows nothing of you; of the circumstances under which you came here?"
"He does not--I swear to God he does not," she said passionately.
It was inexplicable, but Mr. Dumphy believed her.
"But how will you explain this to him? You can do nothing without him."
"Why should _he_ know more? If he has discovered this mine, it is _his_--free of any gift of mine--as independent of any claim of mine as if we were strangers. The law makes him the owner of the mine that he discovers, no matter on whose land it may be found. In personating his sister, I only claimed a grant to the land. He has made the discovery which gives it its value! Even that sister," she added with a sudden flash in her eyes--"even that sister, were she living, could not take it from him now!"
It was true! This woman, with whose weakness he had played, had outwitted them all, and slipped through their fingers almost without stain or blemish. And in a way so simple! Duped as he had been, he could hardly restrain his admiration, and said quite frankly and heartily--
And then--ah me! this clever creature--this sharp adventuress, this Anonyma Victrix began to cry, and to beg him not to tell _her husband_!
At this familiar sign of the universal feminine weakness, Dumphy picked up his ears and arts again.
"Where's your proof that your husband is the first discoverer?" he said curtly, but not unkindly. "Won't that paper that Dr. Devarges gave his sister show that the doctor was really the discoverer of this lead?"
"Yes; but Dr. Devarges is dead, and I hold the paper."
"Good!" He took out his watch. "I've five minutes more. Now look here. I'm not going to say that you haven't managed this thing well--you have!--and that you can, if you like, get along without me--you can! See! I'm not going to say that I went into this thing without the prospect of making something out of it myself. I have! That's business. The thing for you to consider now is this: understanding each other as we do, couldn't you push this thing through better with my help--and helping me--than to go elsewhere! Understand me! You could find a dozen men in San Francisco who would make you as good an offer and better! But it wouldn't be to their interest to keep down any unpleasant reminders of the past as it would be mine. You understand?"