Dolores was, as a matter of fact, desperately in love with Beavis. At the back of her brain there was a shrewd suspicion that there was no Peralta estate, and that she was only his partner in a gigantic swindle, but she loved him, and that was sufficient for her. It was of no importance if the Peralta property was a myth. Beavis had won her heart, and she had spent months of anxiety, fostered by a growing jealousy, because she feared that in the luxurious cities of Europe he would meet a girl who would make him forget the wild beauty of the ranch.
Beavis quickly realized the situation, and with a merry laugh and a few compliments asked her to marry him. He was not prepared for her answer. No sooner had he spoken than she flung herself at his feet, and passionately announced her intention of devoting the rest of her life to his welfare.
It was a real love romance within a sordid, miserable fraud. Beavis, who prided himself upon his knowledge of men and women, could not understand the love he had aroused in the breast of this veritable child of nature. He, who would have sold himself body and soul for money, was astounded that Dolores should be happier as his fiancée than as the prospective owner of twenty million pounds. She would look bored when he spoke of their future splendour when they came into the Peralta money, but if he referred, however obliquely, to her as his wife her face would light up and her manner change at once into that of a happy, delighted girl.
The old ranch-owner offered no objection to the match, and the marriage promptly took place in a remote town, none of those present being aware that this ceremony was to be the prelude to one of the biggest law cases in the history of the United States. Beavis was not in love with his bride. He wanted her money, but Dolores was enchantingly happy, and had she not known that she would have displeased her husband by the suggestion she would have asked him to retire from the Peralta case and let them find and make their own happiness in a little ranch away from the poverty and crimes of cities. But to Beavis nothing mattered except the Peralta millions, and the day after the marriage ceremony he took his lovely bride to New York, where they established themselves in one of the leading hotels, there to await the opening of the suit before the Court of Claims.
The smooth and persuasive tongue of the bridegroom and the beauty and naturalness of the bride carried all before them in New York. Beavis had certainly done his work well, but when level-headed lawyers, suspicious by nature, met Mrs. Beavis they immediately capitulated. There is no other explanation of the extraordinary number of adherents they made for their cause.
They entertained lavishly, using the money which their guests had subscribed for the presentation of Dolores' case before the Courts. It might have been supposed that the ranch girl would have been at a disadvantage in such society, coming as she did from the heart of prairie-land, but because she insisted upon being herself she scored social triumph after social triumph.
The impostor was, of course, the happiest man in New York. It seemed impossible that he should fail. In fact, everybody agreed that the trial would be the most formal of affairs. His cleverness and Dolores' beauty were irresistible, and he would have to be a hard-headed, unfeeling judge who could resist the appeal her eyes made.
Backed by some of the leading business people in New York, his case, presented by a firm of lawyers justly renowned for its ability, and with his wife to cheer him on, Beavis went into Court certain that he would leave it one of the richest men in America. Dolores and he sat side by side whilst counsel argued before the judges and endeavoured to prove that the adopted daughter of the Mexican ranch-owner was the descendant of the Counts of Peralta, who had originally come from Spain. Beavis gave his evidence with confidence and, of course, courage. When a man is playing for such a stake as twenty millions he requires both in abundance.
The end of the first day of the case foreshadowed an easy victory. Beavis was overjoyed, and Dolores was happy just because he was. By now, however, she had seen enough of the documents to guess that the whole claim was bogus. She was the daughter of nameless parents, and, no matter what the Court decided, she would never know who her forbears really were. It did not matter much to her, yet because she loved the impostor she became even more anxious for success than he was, and she knew that if anything went wrong it would break her heart.
Had the estate not been so enormous the United States Court of Claims would not have so doggedly resisted Beavis' claim, but the officials realized that it would be best for all concerned if the question of ownership was decided once and for all. Because of that they took the precaution to despatch an expert in pedigrees and old documents to Madrid, to go over the ground that Beavis had covered and to inquire especially into the history of the all-important deed of gift.