"There—take it, then," said the man impatiently, and a heavy string of beads was slid across the table with a clanking noise. "I had not thought you so good a Christian, Tia!"
"Oh, it is not that," chuckled the hag, clutching the necklace fiercely, as a starving dog might fall on a bone, and concealing it instantly beneath her skirts. "But each link hath the stamp upon it—the mint stamp of Seville—and will pass current for a good duro wherever one may chance to be. With such a necklace one can never be in want."
"Well," said Luis, "the devil fly away with you and it, Tia! I keep all the ornaments of gold—let that be understood. My wife might, upon an occasion, take a yearning for them, and if I had them not to give her, it might be to the danger of my house and succession. So this gold cross——"
("My mother's!" breathed Ramon hotly in Rollo's ear.)
"This knife with the hilt top set with brilliants——"
("My father's—he had it from the great Lor' Wellington for a message he brought to him at Vitoria.")
"These trifles—a pair of ear-rings, a ring of pearls, a comb for the hair in gold—all these I reserve for myself."
As he spoke, he tossed them, one after the other, into a heavy iron-bound box which, with chains and padlocks displayed, stood open upon the floor.
As each article tinkled among the others, the Tia gave a little wince of bodily pain, and her skinny talons scratched the wood of the table with a sound distinctly audible at the door behind which the intruders stood.
Then a quick loud cackle of laughter came from Fernandez. He had found something among the parchments.