“We—we used to—to play at hold-up when he was a boy,” she gasped.
He shook his head. “No, I reckon that won’t go. You see, I’ve found the piece this was torn from, and I found it in your father’s coat. I went into his room on tiptoe that same hour. The coat was 149 on the bed. He had gone downstairs for a minute and left it there. Likely he hadn’t found a good chance to burn it yet.” Taking the two pieces, he fitted them together and held them up. “They match exactly, you see. Did your father used to play with you too when he was a boy?”
He asked this with what seemed to her tortured soul like silken cruelty. She had no answer, none at least that would avail. Desperately she snatched at a straw.
“All this isn’t proof. It’s mere surmise. Some one’s tracks were found by you. How do you know they were father’s?”
“I’ve got that cinched too. I took his boots and measured them.”
“Then where’s the gold, if he took it? It must be somewhere. Where is it?”
“Now I’m going up to the head of the class, ma’am. The gold—why, that’s a dead easy one. Near as I can make out, I’m sitting on it right now.”
She gave a startled little cry that died in her throat.
“Yes, it’s ce’tainly a valuable wash-stand. Chippendale furniture ain’t in it with this kind. I reckon the king of England’s is ace high against a straight flush when it bucks up against yours.”
Melissy threw up her cards. “How did you find out?” she asked hoarsely.