Flying cigars, shattered glasses, and foaming wine
make a rare havoc around.
"By God!" shouts the oblivious Joe," the woman Hardin killed 'French
Charlie' for."
"The same," says Lee, steadily, as he picks some splintered glass
out of his goatee. "Joe, you can add a suit of clothes to that
check."
"Stop your nonsense," says the happy Joe, ringing for the waiter
to clear away the wreck of his cyclonic fist. "The clothes are
O.K."
"Where did she come from to take that boat?" demands Woods.
"From Hardin's house," says Lee.
A light breaks in on Colonel Joe's brain.
"And that woman with her?"
"Was her maid, who stayed with her from the time she left the El
Dorado, and ran the little nest on the hill. The mistress never
showed up in public."
"And the child who went with the maid?" Joe's voice trembles.
"Was Hardin's child. Its mother was the 'Queen of the El Dorado.'"
Woods looks at Lee.
"Can you give me a report, from the time of the killing of 'French
Charlie' down to the sailing?"
"Yes, I can," says the inscrutable Lee.
"Let me have it, to-morrow morning. Not a word to Hardin."
"All right, Colonel Joe," is the answer of silent Lee.
Joseph chokes down his feelings, orders a fresh bottle of wine,
some cigars, and calls for pen and ink.
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