The mere doubt of the existence of such a personage dampened his good spirits. If Melody was a fiction of his youthful imagination, he was loath to part with her; for she had become the possible reality that held his dream together.
“No!” he concluded aloud. “No man would have made all that effort, when he was dying, to speak the name of a mine!”
With this sage reflection he dismissed from his thoughts the teasing puzzle of Krutzmacht and his heirs, and devoted his entire attention to the monuments of The Hague.
XIX
Five days later Brainard stood chatting with Herr Adolf Schneider and Herr Nathan Schneider on the broad granite steps of the Crédit Lyonnais in Paris. The transfer of all Krutzmacht’s papers, except the packages of bonds, had just been completed within the bank, and receipts for them had been given to the young American, together with drafts on New York for two millions of dollars.
“May I inquire what you intend to do now?” Herr Nathan asked, simple curiosity on his broad face.
“I’m going to put in one week more here, then pull out for San Francisco, and try to hunt up my principal,” Brainard replied.
“You are not afraid to return to the States?” Herr Adolf inquired.
“Why should I be? Our people know when they are licked. Those crooks won’t worry me any longer. More likely they’ll be after you now!”
Brainard laughed pleasantly.