“Clerk? No, no! No. Por Dios! No. Thinkest thou that I would give such knowledge as I shall make known to the winds? It is a secret, I tell thee. A secret!”
“Very well, then,” answered the Judge, a little impatiently. He was a very busy man, just then enjoying a needed vacation, and he had little inclination for clerical work, especially in a case like this where the interests at stake were, presumably, very small. He was doing what he did for Steenie’s sake only; because the old Californian was dear to the child in whom he was so much interested. “Very well, then; let us begin. What is the first bequest?”
“The first? It is the last,—first, last, and the whole. I wish to give everything I possess—that is Santa Trinidad—to the most adorable Doña Steenie Calthorp.”
“Indeed? You are generous. What is Santa Trinidad?”
“It is a mountain. It was part of Santa Felisa Rancho, when San’ Felis’ was greater than now, and belonged to the family of Vives, yes.”
“It is valuable?”
For a moment the eye of the old man gleamed craftily; then he asked: “Must thou know that?”
“As you please.”
Sutro considered. By nature he was not very secretive, and of lesser matters he was as sure to babble as to breathe; but this was different. He held, or believed that he held, knowledge of utmost importance; and he had seen enough of property dealings among the—to him—new possessors of his old California to understand that it was just the knowledge which would make them defraud him if they could. Lord Plunkett had seemed an honest man; yet it was such as Lord Plunkett who had usurped the broad acres once belonging to his own race and people. However, he must trust somebody. He must have help.
“Caramba! Wilt thou, Señor Juez, swear—por Dios—that thou wilt not betray me? That I can trust thee?”