Natalie's arms are stretched to him in thanks. "In God's name, be it, my noble friend."
Joe dares not trust himself longer.
He retires, leaving Natalie standing, a splendid statue, with shining, hopeful eyes. Her blessing follows him; sin-shadowed though she be, it reaches the Court of Heaven.
Natalie, in silent sorrow, sees her labor of years brushed away. Her child can never be the heiress of Lagunitas. Fate has brought the gentle Louise Moreau to the very threshold of her old home. It is Providence. Destiny. The all-knowing PŠre Fran‡ois reveals to her how strangely the life-path of the heiress has been guarded. "My daughter," the priest solemnly says, "be comforted. Right shall prevail. Trust me, trust Colonel Woods. Your child may fall heir yet to a name and to her own inheritance. The ways of Him who pardons are mysterious." He leaves her comforted and yet not daring to break the seal of silence to the lovely claimants.
While PŠre Fran‡ois confers with Natalie, as the moon sails high in heaven over the fragrant pines, Woods and Peyton exchange a few quiet words over their cigars.
By the repeater which Joe consults it is now a quarter of ten. The two gentlemen stroll over the grassy plaza. By a singular provincial custom each carries a neat navy revolver, where a hand could drop easily on it. Joe also caresses his favorite knife in his overcoat pocket.
In five minutes they are seated with Philip Hardin in his room. There is an air of gloomy readiness in Hardin which shows the unbending nature of the man. He is alone. Woods frankly says: "Judge Hardin, I wish you to know my friend, Mr. Henry Peyton. If anything should happen to me, he knows all my views. He will represent me. As you are alone, I will ask Mr. Peyton to wait for me below."
Henry Peyton bows and passes downstairs, where he is regarded as an archangel of the enemy. For the Hardin headquarters are loyal to their great chief. The man who controls the millions of Lagunitas is surrounded by his loyal body-guard at Mariposa.
When the two men are alone, Woods waits for Hardin to speak. He is silent. There is a gulf between them which never can be bridged. Joseph feels he is no match for Hardin in chicanery, but he has his little surprise in store for the lawyer. It is an armed truce.
"Hardin, I've come over to-night to talk a little politics with you," begins Joseph. His eye is glued on the Judge's, who steadily returns the glance.