. Drink here, and we shall talk of thee and me, and what
concerns us both nearly. Art sure thy eyes are not blinded by the nearer
beauty?"

"I am not blind! I never saw with clearer vision!" Pearse cried, taking
the flagon with tremorless hand. "I care nothing for these tawdry
gauds."

"Ah! Then thou'rt the man. Come, thy faithful soul deserves reward.
Come, I will show thee treasures thou hast not dreamed of yet; and all
shall be thine, with me--at a price."

CHAPTER XVII.

THE TREASURE TEST.

Dolores gaily took John Pearse by the hand and led him down the chamber
to the dais on which stood the vacant chair of state of the dead Red
Jabez. The great canopied bed still stood there; but it was curtained
in, out of sight, and unused; Dolores preferred her own low couch, with
its strangely beautiful composite furnishings of silk and tiger-skins,
velvet and snowy polar-bear rugs, heaped high with luxurious cushions
that made it a restful lounge by day as well as a sleep-inviting couch
by night.

Beside the couch, between it and the dais, Milo had set the
treasure-chests, leaving the lids wide-flung, the contents but thinly
concealed by silken shawls. The end of a rope of matchless pearls hung
over the edge of one chest carelessly, without apparent motive; yet when
she guided Pearse to the couch and seated him, Dolores scanned his face
with glinting eyes that peeped out through narrow slits. She saw his
look of interest; then his mouth turned upward in a smile that said
plainly: "Here is a theatrical trick to impress me!"

"Now thy reward is come," whispered Dolores, leaving him with an arch
smile and kneeling before the big chests. She tore away the shawls and
plunged her hands into the glittering hoard to the wrists, flinging out
upon the couch and the floor, upon Pearse's knees and into his hands,
rubies and emeralds, diamonds and pearls, golden chains and ornaments
for the hair in a bewildering, stupendous litter. And, her face turned
from him, her narrowed eyes were fixed upon him, and in their gleaming
depths burned a smoldering anxiety that was nearing impatience.

For John Pearse cloaked his feelings better than his fellows; he smiled
at the shower of riches, met her questing glance with a smile, and
smiled again with shaking head when she stood before him, aglow with
yearning for his decision, and asked simply:

"Well?"

"Baubles, playthings, Dolores!" he laughed up at her. He seized her
hands,