Late that afternoon Arthur and Louise sat in the court, chatting with their guests, who were occupied in coddling and amusing baby Jane, when Inez approached Mr. Weldon and said that Miguel wished to speak with him.
“Send him here,” said Arthur, and presently the old Mexican appeared, again arrayed in his best clothes and with the red necktie carefully arranged. He held his hat in his hand and looked uncertainly around the circle. Then his eyes wandered to the nursery and through the open door he saw Mildred sitting in a rocker, engaged in reading a book. Runyon had gone home that morning, “to see if the ranch is still there,” he said.
“I have—some—private talks to make, Meest Weld,” began the old ranchero.
“Speak out, Miguel,” said his master encouragingly.
“Oh; but he said ‘private,’” Patsy reminded him.
“I know. Miguel understands that he may speak before my friends.”
“It ees—about—Señor Cristoval, Meest Weld.”
“Yes? Well, what about him, Miguel?”
“I am once servant for Señor Cristoval. I stay here in house with him, long time. When he get sick, before he die, I care for him. Doctor say to me that Señor Cristoval can not get well; I say so to Señor Cristoval. He say never mind, he have live long enough.”
This was interesting to them all in view of the recent happenings, and the girls bent nearer to hear the old man’s story. Arthur, the major and Uncle John were equally intent.
“Señor Cristoval, he say, when he get very bad, there ees one thing he hate to leave, an’ that ees—his money,” continued Miguel. “He say, money ees his bes’ friend, all time. But he no can take money where he will go. He ees mad that many poor fools will spend the money he have love an’ cared for. So he make me take three big bag of gold an’ drive to bank an’ put away so the poor fools will find it. Much more money ees in bank, too. Then, when doctor come, he ask me when he will die, an’ doctor say when sun next shine Señor Cristoval will not see it. Doctor want to stay all night, but Señor Cristoval pay an’ tell him go. He want to die alone.
“But I am there. Some time in night Señor Cristoval he call an’ say: ‘Miguel, I mus’ not die till I have give to Leighton what belong to him. I have keep Leighton’s money for him. I will show you where it ees hid, so you can give it to Leighton.’”
Ah, they were intent enough now. Intuitively each listener seemed to know that a secret was about to be revealed and many glances were cast toward the unconscious Mildred, who continued to read placidly. But no one interrupted the old Mexican.
“I help Senor Cristoval to stand up. He ees not strong, so I hold him. He walk from blue room to back room an’ there he show me how to take block from wall. Behind block ees big place for money. Señor Cristoval he say all money what belong to Leighton ees there. He tell me count it. So I put Señor Cristoval in chair an’ he watch while I take out money an’ count. There ees four bag. I count three bag an’ he say good, it ees right. He say count last bag. So I empty bag on floor an’ count gold an’ put in bag again. When thees ees done I say: ‘Is eet right?’ But Señor Cristoval say nothing. I look up, an’ Señor Cristoval ees dead.”
The old man spoke simply and quietly, but they found his relation intensely dramatic. Patsy was trembling with excitement. Beth clasped Louise’s hand and found it cold from nervousness.
“And then, Miguel?” said Arthur.
“Then, Meest Weld, I put gold in wall an’ fix block so no one know an’ carry Señor Cristoval to his bed. That ees all, Meest Weld.”
“And you told no one of Leighton’s gold?”
“I tell no one. It ees belong to Leighton.”
“Where is it now, Miguel?”
“In wall, Meest Weld.”
“All of it?”
“All.”
There was a moment’s pause.
“You know now that it belongs to Mildred—to Leighton’s daughter,—do you not?” he asked, an accent of sternness in his voice.
“I know, Meest Weld.”
“Then why did you not tell us of this before?”
Old Miguel stood silent, shifting from one foot to another, his eyes cast down, his slender brown fingers spasmodically pressing the rim of his sombrero. But when he spoke it was in his former quiet manner.