"No, no!" Norine was indignant. "Johnnie doesn't believe in
pirates or treasure, or--anything. He doesn't even believe in
fairies, and he's Irish, too. But I do. I revel in such things. If
you don't go on, I'll blow up."
"There is no doubt that my father had a great deal of money at one
time," Esteban began; "he was the richest man in the richest city
of Cuba and ..."
O'Reilly shook his head dubiously and braced his back against a
tree-trunk; there was a look of mild disapprobation on his face as
he listened to the familiar story of Don Esteban and the slave,
Sebastian.
Young Esteban told the tale well. His own faith in it lent a
certain convincingness to his words and Norine Evans hung upon
them entranced. She was horrified at the account of Don Esteban's
death; her eyes grew dark as Esteban told of his and Rosa's
childhood with their avaricious stepmother. That part of the
narrative which had to do with the death of Dona Isabel and the
finding of the gold coin was new to O'Reilly and he found himself
considerably impressed by it. When Esteban had finished, Norine
drew a deep breath.
"Oh! That lays over any story I ever heard. To think that the
deeds and the jewels and everything are in the well AT THIS
MINUTE! How COULD you go away and leave them?"
"I didn't think it out at the time.
Pages:
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327