"Came through the camp half an hour ago," he said. "Hear you cleaned up on
Bill Quade."

"A bit," said Aldous.

Stevens rolled his quid and spat into the water slushing at his feet.

"Guess I saw the woman when she got off the train," he went on. "She
dropped something. I picked it up, but she was so darned pretty as she
stood there looking about I didn't dare go up an' give it to her. If it had
been worth anything I'd screwed up my courage. But it wasn't--so I just
gawped like the others. It was a piece of paper. Mebby you'd like it as a
souvenir, seein' as you laid out Quade for her."

As he spoke, Stevens fished a crumpled bit of paper from his pocket and
gave it to his companion. Aldous had sat down beside him. He smoothed the
page out on his knee. There was no writing on it, but it was crowded thick
with figures, as if the maker of the numerals had been doing some problem
in mathematics. The chief thing that interested him was that wherever
monetary symbols were used it was the "pound" and not the "dollar" sign.
The totals of certain columns were rather startling.

"Guess she's a millionaire if that's her own money she's been figgering,"
said Stevens. "Notice that figger there!" He pointed with a stubby
forefinger. "Pretty near a billion, ain't it?"

"Seven hundred and fifty thousand," said Aldous.

He was thinking of the "pound" sign. She had not looked like the