Before leaving Salt Lake City, in accord with the customs of all gypsies, Madame Bihari and Jeanne had laid in a supply of provisions. Having come upon them while in the act, Danby Force had added a few luxuries to the stock. They were therefore prepared for a stay of some length if need be.
In spite of this, Danby Force said as he entered the lodge, “We won’t be here long I hope. I came to look for that bag.” He favored Jeanne with a smile.
“Oh, a mystery!” she cried. “A missing bag. Was it yours? And how was it lost?”
“Oh! Of course!” he exclaimed. “You don’t know a thing about it! How stupid of me! Sit down and I’ll tell you about it. At least—” he hesitated, “I’ll tell you some things.”
Madame Bihari had kindled a fire in the huge fireplace. The glow of it lighted up the little French girl’s face. It made her look extraordinarily beautiful. Danby Force took in a long breath before he began.
That which he told her after all was not so very much—at least he did not tell her why he was so intensely interested in that traveling bag. He did tell her all that had passed in that cabin on the previous day.
“So you see,” he ended, “that the bag must be here somewhere. You don’t carry away a leather bag a foot high and two feet long in your mouth, nor inside your shoe either.” The little French girl joined him in a low laugh.
“But no!” she exclaimed. “And yet I cannot see how it could matter so much.”
“It’s the papers in that bag,” he explained. “She did not steal those papers, that dark lady. She is no common thief. They are hers in a way. And yet she could use them to ruin the prosperity and happiness of three thousand people.”
“But why would she do such a terrible thing?” The little French girl spread her hands in horror.