It seemed irrelevant somehow; and
though there was no reason why they should do so, her own affairs appeared
more insistently exciting than before. "It's the call of the West
already," she answered her own question. "I hear the voice of my father's
country."
And then her thoughts returned to Nick.
"I wonder what _he_ is doing now--whether I made him see the error of his
ways?" she asked herself, stroking Timmy, lent by Kate. And she was not
sorry for the forest creature: not sorry at all. It was stupid even to
think of him. But in her lap, a splendid plaything for the black cat, was
the gold bag. It seemed associated with Mr. Hilliard now. Odd, how
different it looked since she had got it back! Bigger, somehow, though, of
course, it was the same. There couldn't have been a mistake. Almost
mechanically she began to count the jewels set along the mouth of the bag.
Fifteen sapphires--fifteen diamonds. Why, there had been only twenty-eight
altogether! She was sure of that. She had counted them before, in
absent-minded moments. What could this mean? Suddenly an explanation of
what it might mean flashed into her head. The theory seemed too
elaborate--yet it would account for the mystery Hilliard had made of the
whole matter, and his anxiety that she should not interview the police, or
come into contact with them.
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