“They will be forthcoming, like enough, when the time comes,” said Cranch; “the main thing at first was to find the girl; that was MY job; the lawyers, I reckon, can fit the proofs and say what's wanted, later on.”
“But why lawyers,” continued Padre Pedro, with a slight sneer he could not repress, “if the child is found and Senor Cranch is satisfied?”
“On account of the property. Business is business!”
“The property?”
Mr. Cranch pressed the back of his knife-blade on his boot, shut it up with a click, and putting it in his pocket said calmly,—
“Well, I reckon the million of dollars that her father left when he died, which naturally belongs to her, will require some proof that she is his daughter.”
He had placed both his hands in his pockets, and turned his eyes full upon Father Pedro. The priest arose hurriedly.
“But you said nothing of this before, Senor Cranch,” said he, with a gesture of indignation, turning his back quite upon Cranch, and taking a step towards the refectory.
“Why should I? I was looking after the girl, not the property,” returned Cranch, following the Padre with watchful eyes, but still keeping his careless, easy attitude.
“Ah, well! Will it be said so, think you? Eh! Bueno. What will the world think of your sacred quest, eh?” continued the Padre Pedro, forgetting himself in his excitement, but still averting his face from his companion.