Death waited at the foot
of the shaft for the noble stranger.
Hundreds of days, on thousands of trips like this, the princes
of the Comstock have risked their own lives in the perils of the
yawning pits. These dark holes blown out of the mountain rocks have
their fearful death-rolls to show.
It is the revenge of the gnomes. Every detail points to a frank
explanation. Journals and reports, with letters from the Italian
consul, lifted the sad tragedy above any chance of crime or
collusion. It is kismet.
Hardin's letter was manly. In it, he pledged his honor to carry
out the agreement, advising Natalie to select a friend to accompany
her to California with the heiress, as soon as she could travel.
His banker had orders to supply funds.
"I suggest, in view of this untimely accident, you would sooner
have your funds settled on you in Europe. It shall be as you wish.
You may rely on me," so ran the closing lines.
The parted strands of the hoisting cable cannot reveal whether it
was cut or weakened, yet Hardin knows. It was his devilish masterpiece.
Days of sadness drag down the self-reliant adventuress. Whom can
she trust now? Dare she confide in Pere Francois?
A simple envelope addressed in a scrawling hand, and postmarked San
Francisco, drives all sorrow from her heart.
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