She caught the purse up with another little cry—an inarticulate cry. Then she turned and walked swiftly to the yellow-shaded candelabrum on a second table at the farther end of the long room. Here she opened the purse, leaning down with her back toward him.
It was fully a minute before she straightened and turned and came toward him once more, slowly, the bills in her hand. As she paused near him, something—a change in her carriage or her look—made him retreat a step.
“Where did you find it?” she asked brusquely.
“Not ten feet from where the wagon stood, Miss. It must ’a’ fell in turnin’.”
She was silent a moment. Then, “So you knew where the wagon stood,” she commented. There was no attempt to hide the meaning in her voice.
“I—I seen where you was,” stammered Larry, shifting from one foot to the other.
“Indeed! You were present at the game, then?”
“Yes, Miss. After the ladies and gents went I goes across to that side—ridin’. There she laid, big as life.”
“I see.” She walked to and fro a few steps. After a little she paused in her walk and spoke again: “You know of the reward, I suppose?”
“Oh, yes, Miss, but——”