power here already. Look at the way he makes that girl at Killimaga
work."

It seemed to Mark that the detective was beginning to fence again.

"She's a stranger, isn't she?" he asked.

The detective half closed his eyes. "How do you know?"

"You told me so."

Saunders blew a thoughtful smoke ring.

"I guess I did. You know, of course, Killimaga was rented to her about
the time Padre came here. The old Irishman who built it, died, and his
family went over to your country to buy a title for their only
daughter. The girl up there must be a rich one to rent such an estate;
and, Griffin, that old Irishman had taste, believe me. His gardens are
a wonder. Ever see them?"

"No."

"Try to; they're worth while. This girl spends her money and herself
on the Padre's charities. He directs, and she does things for the mill
people. By gad, Griffin, they just love her! I passed her just now
going into O'Leary's. The old man was crushed at the mill, and died
yesterday. It's dollars to doughnuts she takes care of that family all
winter. Where she gets the money is beyond me."

"You Americans are all rich," said Mark. "You English think we are,