lands and the mine and had received pay for them. He claimed my father had buried the money received, saying he would thus hide it until the war was over—"
"And it is true," burst in Barnabas Moval. "I paid him every dollar he asked."
"'Tis not true, not one word. On his death-bed my father told me of a will he had made, leaving all the property to me; and how could he leave that property to me if he had sold it?"
"Have you the will?"
"No. He told me he had placed it in a box with some land deeds and private papers, but when I looked for it, it was not there."
"Of course it was not there," came from Barnabas Moval. "'Tis a story made out of the wings of a worm. Do not believe anything she says, capitan."
"Be quiet," ordered Ben, turning on the man, sharply. "I will listen to this woman first. He was going to take a box from you. Was that the box of private papers you mentioned just now?"
"Yes, señor captain."
"What are you doing here with them?"
"I grew afraid to keep them at home. I have a dear friend in Manila, and thought I would take
