Ruth's head was toward the door. She could watch the movements of the old Gypsy woman. Zelaya did not go to sleep at all, but seemed to be waiting for the camp to get quiet and for her two visitors to fall into slumber.
She kept raising her head and looking first at Helen, then at Ruth. The latter knew by her chum's breathing that, despite her fears, Helen had fallen asleep almost instantly.
So Ruth began to breathe deeply and regularly, too. She closed her eyes—almost entirely. This was what Zelaya had been waiting for.
Silently the old woman arose and turned up the lampwick a little. She knelt down before one of the padlocked boxes and unlocked it softly. Then she rummaged in the box—seemingly beneath a lot of rubbish that filled it, and drew forth a japanned box—like a cashbox. This was locked, too, and Zelaya wore the key of it on a string about her neck.
Silently, with a glance at the two girls now and then, she unlocked this box and opened it on the top of the chest, before which she knelt.
Ruth could see the old woman's face. It changed very much as she gazed upon what was in the japanned box. Her black eyes glowed, and her gray, thin lips were wreathed in a smile of delight.
Again Ruth remembered Roberto's account of his grandmother. She was a miser, and he had mentioned that he had seen her at night gloating over her hoarded wealth.
Surely Zelaya had all the signs of a miser. The next moment Ruth saw that the old woman verily possessed something worth gloating over.
She lifted from the interior of the box a string of flashing gems—a broad band, or necklace, of them, in fact—and let them flow through her fingers in a stream of sparkling light. They were beautiful, beautiful pearls—a really wonderful necklace of them!
Ruth held her breath for a moment. The queen turned suddenly and shot a keen, suspicious glance at her. The girl knew enough to cough, turn slightly, and recommence her steady breathing.