Brockton shrugged his shoulders impatiently.
"Oh, don't get sentimental," he said testily. "If you're going to bring up that sort of talk, Laura, do it some time when I haven't got a hang-over, and then, don't forget, talk never does count for much."
Rising and going to the mirror, Laura picked up a hat from a box, put it on, and looked at herself in the mirror. She turned around and looked at her companion steadfastly for a moment without speaking. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him the truth there and then, tell him she had lied about mailing the letter to Madison, and that she had been miserable ever since; tell him that this rotten, artificial life disgusted and degraded her, that she was sick of it and of him. But she had not the courage.
Meantime, Brockton, left to himself, went on perusing the paper more carefully. Suddenly he stopped and looked at his watch.
"What time is it?" inquired Laura.
"After ten."
"Aren't you ever going out?" she demanded crossly.
Deeply engrossed in his paper, the broker made no answer. His eye had just been attracted to an item which particularly interested him. It was a despatch from Chicago, and read as follows:
"A story has reached here of an extraordinary gold find just made in Nevada by two lucky prospectors. The men set out from Goldfield several weeks ago, and got lost in the mountains. After enduring terrible privations, and almost perishing in the blizzard, they were found in last extremity by a party of hunters. They had actually discovered gold, having accidentally stumbled on one of the richest ore deposits in the gold region. A nugget of enormous size was brought in by the rescuing party in support of their well-nigh incredible story. The prospectors quickly recovered from their terrible experience, and one of them, named John Madison, is now on his way East for the purpose of organizing a syndicate which will begin at once large operations in the Nevada gold fields. Rumor has it that Mr. Madison will also bring back a bride."
Brockton caught his breath and looked sharply over at Laura. Did she know about this? Was it the explanation of her petulance and discontented attitude? That fellow Madison was now a man of means. The coincidence of the despatch brought back to the broker's mind the night scene on the terrace in Denver, and later their conversation at the boarding house in New York, and with the subtle intuition of the shrewd man of the world, he at once connected the two. Eyeing his companion keenly and suspiciously, he said: