“The man and woman, with the baby, traveled west by wagon. They always camped. When supplies were needed, the man would go alone to purchase them. They rarely entered a town except to pass through, and then of course took every precaution to hide the child. Their plan to extort money from the father, led them to preserve carefully the evidence that would later prove the identity of the little girl. Their fears of arrest led them to conceal their own identity as carefully. It was more than a year later when they reached Tucson. The rest of the story we have heard.
“I should add that Marta’s mother died six months after the baby was stolen. George Clinton, after his wife’s death, sold his mining interests and moved to California.”
Hugh Edwards started forward. His face was ghastly. His lips trembled so that he could scarcely form the words. “George Clinton, did you say?”
“Yes.”
“George Willard Clinton?”
“Yes, do you know of him?”
Hugh Edwards, fighting for self-control, became very still. Turning his back on the others, he walked to the window and stood looking out.
“Yes,” he said at last, and his voice was steady now, “yes, I know him. He lives in Los Angeles. I had heard that he was at one time interested in mines in Missouri. But of course I knew nothing of this story that you have told. He is a very wealthy man.”
“What a splendid thing for Marta,” exclaimed Saint Jimmy.
Hugh Edwards left the window and went to stand beside the body of the Mexican.