"I can't say. Perhaps they would. I am not a good lawyer. You had better ask Mask. However, the boy's gone, and I dare say he'll some day be lynched in the States. People like him always come to a bad end, Eva. Well, any more questions?"
"I can't think of any. Why do you ask?"
Allen took her hands, and looked into her eyes. "Because I want to put the old bad past out of our minds. I want you to ask what you wish to ask, and I'll answer. Then we'll drop the subject for ever."
"There's nothing more I want to know," said Eva after a pause; "tell me about our house, Allen."
He kissed her, and then told of the quaint Spanish house in the sleepy old Spanish town, and told also of the increasing wealth of the silver mine. "We'll all be millionaires in a few years, Eva, and then we can return to Europe and take a house in London."
"Certainly not in Wargrove," said Eva, shivering. "I want to forget this place with all its horrors. My dream----"
"Don't talk of it, Eva. We'll be married next week, and then life will be all joy for us both. Ah, here is Mrs. Palmer!----"
"Mrs. Parkins that is to be," said the male figure by the widow's side; "we're going to travel together."
"I am so glad, Constance," said Eva, kissing her.
"What about me, Miss Strode?" asked the envious American.