“WITH THE STRENGTH OF HER HEALTHY YOUTH SHE STRUGGLED WITH HIM”
In fifteen minutes Barron was back and found the Garcia ladies in Mariposa’s room, ministering to the girl who lay in a heavy swoon, stark and white on the hearth-rug.
The old lady, in some wondrous and intimate déshabille, greeted him eagerly in Spanish, demanding what had happened. He told her all he knew and knelt down beside the younger Mrs. Garcia, who was attempting with a shaking hand to pour brandy between Mariposa’s set teeth.
“We heard the most awful shrieks, and we rushed up, and here she was standing and screaming: ‘He’s got it! He’s got it!’ And then she fell flat, quite suddenly, and has lain here this way ever since.”
“It was a robber,” said the old woman, looking at the scattered gold, “but he didn’t get her money. What was it he took, I wonder?”
“Some papers, I think,” said Barron, “that were evidently of value to her. I’ll lift her up and put her on the bed and then I’ll go. As soon as she’s conscious ask her what the man took and come and tell me, and I’ll go right to the police station.”
“Oh, don’t leave us,” implored Mrs. Garcia, junior—“if there are burglars anywhere round. Oh, please don’t go. Pierpont’s away and we’d have no man in the house. Don’t go till morning. I’m just as scared as I can be!”
“There’s nothing to be scared about. The man’s got what he wanted, and he’ll take precious good care not to come back.”
“Oh, but don’t go till it gets light. The window’s broken and any one can come in who wants.”