"We were married in Mexico, seven years ago."
"Your home was in Mexico?"
"No, Señor, my father owned a big cattle ranch in Texas. Señor Walcott, as you call him here, worked for him. He wanted to marry me, but my father opposed the marriage. We lived close to the line, so we went across one day and were married. My father was very angry, but I was his only child, and by and by he forgave and took us back."
"Do I understand you that Walcott is not this man's real name?" Mr. Britton interposed.
"His name is José Martinez, Señor."
"But is he not a half-breed? I have understood his father was an Englishman."
"His father was an Englishman, but no one ever knew who he was, you understand, Señor? Afterwards his mother married Pablo Martinez, and her child took his name. That was why my father opposed our marriage."
"I understand," said Mr. Britton; "but he claims heavy cattle interests in the South; how did he come by them?"
"My father's, all of them;" she replied. "He and my father quarrelled soon after we went there to live. Then we came away north; we lived for a while in this State,"—she paused and hesitated as though fearing she had said too much, but Mr. Britton's face betrayed nothing, and she continued: "Then, in a year or so, we went south and he and my father quarrelled again. My father was found dead on the plains, trampled by the cattle, but no one knew how it came about. Then José took everything and told me I had nothing. He went north again three years ago. A year later he came back and told me I was not his wife, that our marriage was void because it was not performed in this country. I became very ill. He took me away