where he was working.

"So you think I'm an infant at that game, do you?"

"I didn't mean to hurt your feelings," was her saucy answer.

"You haven't--not a mite. What about Don Manuel? Is he an infant at it,
too?"

A sudden flame of color swept her face. The words she flung at Gordon
seemed irrelevant, but he did not think them so. "I hate him."

And with that she was gone.

Dick's eyes twinkled. He had discovered another reason for her interest
in his fortunes.

Later in the day, when the pressure of work had relaxed, the clerk
drifted his way again while searching for some papers.

"Your lawyers are paid to look up all this, aren't they? Why do you do
it, then?" she asked.

"The case interests me. I want to know all about it."

"Would you like to see the old Valdes house here in Santa Fe? My father
bought it when Alvaro Valdes built his new town house. One day I found
in the garret a bundle of old Spanish letters. They were written by old
Bartolome to his son. I saved them. Would you care to see them?"

"Very much. The old chap was a great character. I suppose he was really
the last of the great feudal barons. The French Revolution put an end to
them in Europe--that and the industrial revolution. It's rather amazing
that out here in the desert of this new land dedicated to democracy the
idea was transplanted and survived so long."

"I'll bring the letters to-morrow and you can look them over. Any time
you like I'll show you over the house. It's really rather
interesting--much more so than their new one, which is so modern that it
looks like a thousand others. Valencia was born in the old house. What
will you give me to let you into the room?"

He brushed aside her impudence with a laugh. "Your boss is looking this
way. I think he's getting ready to fire you."

"He's more likely to be fired himself. I'm under civil service and he
isn't. Will you take your shoes off when you go into the holy of
holies?"

"What happens to little girls when they ask too many questions? Go 'way.
I'm busy."

CHAPTER XIII

AMBUSHED

On her return from luncheon that same afternoon Miss Underwood brought
Dick a bundle of letters tied with a ribbon. She tossed them down upon
the desk in front of him.

"I haven't read them myself. Of course they're in Spanish. I did try to
get through one of them, but it was too much like work and I gave it up.
But since they're written by _her_ grandfather they'll interest you