buy a new one."

"Then you say that this pick which I found in my shaft is not
yours?"

"Yes."

"Slinn!"

The old man passed his hand across his forehead, looked at Mulrady,
and dropped his eyes. "It is not mine," he said simply.

"That will do," said Mulrady, gravely.

"And you will not speak of this again?" said the old man, timidly.

"I promise you--not until I have some more evidence."

He kept his word, but not before he had extorted from Slinn as full
a description of Masters as his imperfect memory and still more
imperfect knowledge of his former neighbor could furnish. He
placed this, with a large sum of money and the promise of a still
larger reward, in the hands of a trustworthy agent. When this was
done he resumed his old relations with Slinn, with the exception
that the domestic letters of Mrs. Mulrady and Mamie were no longer
a subject of comment, and their bills no longer passed through his
private secretary's hands.

Three months passed; the rainy season had ceased, the hillsides
around Mulrady's shaft were bridal-like with flowers; indeed, there