She was interested, challenged.
“Was it here?”
“Yes, here in Beaucourt.”
And then he put his head back and smiled.
“It is still there; the ground has not been touched.”
She stared. Her eyes changed from a deep brown to black; her face grew more serious, and seemed to show little shadow-marks under the eyes and about the mouth. She stood up, came a step nearer, and looked Brent straight in the face.
“Of what do you speak?”
“The treasure that you buried in the garden.”
He saw her face as a hard, white surface, and her eyes as two hard, black circles.
“But—who are you? It was an English soldier.”