Seymour did not relish the situation created by her persistence. The girl's presence was a grave complication. It handicapped him just when his investigation was advancing with unexpected smoothness. But now that she was in, his duty was to get her out safely.
"And how are your Indian wards faring?" he asked, by way of gaining time to figure out the safest, most expeditious exit for her.
"They puzzle me for they have no complaint," she answered. "Either conditions have changed or that imposter was sadly misled in his observations. Actually, the Indians seem to look upon Bonnemort and Kluger as benefactors. 'Hiyu skookum Boston men,' they call the rascals."
"B. & K. are taking the bulk of the clean-up," Seymour told her. "I watched the divvy when they stripped the sluices out front this morning."
"But that doesn't seem possible," Moira protested. "I hear from two of my most trusted klootchmen that the Indians are given all the gold."
Seymour seemed not to have heard. He was. crossing to the front of the wall tent where, beneath the table, he had sighted a sack exactly like the treasure-weighted one he had seen the partners carry from the creek. But if this was the same, it had been emptied.
"All the gold, I said," repeated the girl, impatient at his seeming lack of attention to her astonishing report. "What do you make of that, Sergeant Scarlet?"
"I'll say that is right kind and unbelievably generous of B. & K. and that a right lively surprise is awaiting my Irisher when I get her out of jeopardy."
The sergeant had upturned the sack and was shaking it. A single jagged lump, evidently held in the fabric when the sack had been dumped, thudded to the ground. Both leaned over to examine it. The girl straightened first.
"More of that old frog-gold," she said with another low, aggravating laugh.