“I know it. She come from New York. But yesterday she say to me: ‘Let us wheel leetle Jane to the live oak at Burney’s.’ How can she know there is live oak at Burney’s? Then, the first day she come, she say: ‘Take baby’s milk into vault under your room an’ put on stone shelf to keep cool.’ I, who live here, do not know of such a vault. She show me some stone steps in one corner, an’ she push against stone wall. Then wall open like door, an’ I find vault. But how she know it, unless she is witch-woman?”
There was a murmur of astonishment. Old Miguel scratched his head as if puzzled.
“I, too, know about thees vault,” said he; “but then, eet ees I know all of the old house, as no one else know. Once I live there with Señor Cristoval. But how can thees New York girl know?”
There was no answer. Merely puzzled looks.
“What name has she, Inez?” suddenly asked Miguel.
“Travers. Meeldred Travers.”
The old man thought deeply and then shook his head with a sigh.
“In seexty year there be no Travers near El Cajon,” he asserted. “I thought maybe she have been here before. But no. Even in old days there ees no Travers come here.”
“There ees a Travers Ranch over at the north,” asserted Bella.
“Eet ees a name; there be no Travers live there,” declared Miguel, still with that puzzled look upon his plump features.