<h2><SPAN name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></SPAN>CHAPTER XXXII<br/><br/> REVELATION</h2>
<div class="blockquot"><p>Natachee remembered</p>
</div>
<p class="nind"><span class="letra">H</span>UGH EDWARDS rose to his feet.</p>
<p>“Well,” he said desperately, “let’s have it.”</p>
<p>Saint Jimmy answered in an odd musing tone:</p>
<p>“Marta, or Martha, for that is her name, was born in a little city in
southwestern Missouri—in the lead and zinc mining district. Her parents
were both held in the highest esteem in the community where their
families had lived for three generations.</p>
<p>“About the time Marta was born, her father, who was a real-estate
speculator and trader on a rather small scale, purchased a tract of land
from some people who could barely make a living on it. The land was
hilly and stony and covered mostly with scrub oak, which made it almost
worthless for farming and the man and his wife were glad to get the
usual market price for such property.</p>
<p>“But shortly after, this same cheap farm land was developed as a very
valuable mineral property—about the richest, in fact, in that
district.”</p>
<p>Hugh Edwards interrupted:</p>
<p>“Wait a minute—did you learn all this just now from the contents of
that package?<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page_321" id="page_321">{321}</SPAN></span>”</p>
<p>“No, Hugh, the fact is, I was born and grew up in that same Missouri
town. It was the home of my people, and even after I went to St. Louis,
I was in close touch with the old place. These papers here merely fill
in some of the missing details of a story that I have known for years. I
am trying to tell it to you so that you will understand everything
clearly.”</p>
<p>“Go on, please.”</p>
<p>“When the property they had sold proved so valuable, the people who had
been glad to receive the price they did for their supposedly worthless
farm lands were very bitter. They considered themselves swindled and,
being the sort they were, brooded over their fancied wrongs until they
formed a plan of revenge. They stole the baby, Martha.</p>
<p>“The plan of the kidnappers, as it is shown here,” Saint Jimmy touched
the packet on the table, “was to hold the little girl until her father
had made a fortune from the mineral lands he had purchased from them,
and then to force him to pay a large part of that wealth back to them as
a ransom for the child.</p>
<p>“The man and woman, with the baby, traveled west by wagon. They always
camped. When supplies were needed, the man would go alone to purchase
them. They rarely entered a town except to pass through, and then of
course took every precaution to hide the child. Their plan to extort
money from the father, led them to preserve carefully the evidence that
would later prove the identity of the little girl. Their fears of arrest
led them<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page_322" id="page_322">{322}</SPAN></span> to conceal their own identity as carefully. It was more than a
year later when they reached Tucson. The rest of the story we have
heard.</p>
<p>“I should add that Marta’s mother died six months after the baby was
stolen. George Clinton, after his wife’s death, sold his mining
interests and moved to California.”</p>
<p>Hugh Edwards started forward. His face was ghastly. His lips trembled so
that he could scarcely form the words. “George Clinton, did you say?”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>“George Willard Clinton?”</p>
<p>“Yes, do you know of him?”</p>
<p>Hugh Edwards, fighting for self-control, became very still. Turning his
back on the others, he walked to the window and stood looking out.</p>
<p>“Yes,” he said at last, and his voice was steady now, “yes, I know him.
He lives in Los Angeles. I had heard that he was at one time interested
in mines in Missouri. But of course I knew nothing of this story that
you have told. He is a very wealthy man.”</p>
<p>“What a splendid thing for Marta,” exclaimed Saint Jimmy.</p>
<p>Hugh Edwards left the window and went to stand beside the body of the
Mexican.</p>
<p>“Yes, it will be very fine for her.”</p>
<p>And suddenly, as he stood looking down at the dead man, Hugh Edwards
laughed.</p>
<p>Saint Jimmy sprang to his feet. Such laughter was not good to hear.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page_323" id="page_323">{323}</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Hugh!”</p>
<p>The man whirled on him. “You win, Saint Jimmy—congratulations.” He
rushed madly from the room.</p>
<p>Saint Jimmy gazed at Natachee, speechless with amazement.</p>
<p>“What on earth did he mean by that!” he said at last.</p>
<p>“Is it possible you do not know?”</p>
<p>The other shook his head.</p>
<p>Natachee said slowly:</p>
<p>“When everybody believed that the woman Hugh Edwards loved was one who
had no real right to even the name she bore, then he could ask her to
become his wife. Now that the woman is the daughter of honor and wealth,
how can the convict expect her to go with him? Hugh Edwards is not
blind. He sees it is now more fitting that the woman he loves become the
wife of his friend, Saint Jimmy, upon whose name there is no shadow.”</p>
<p>But Natachee, with the cunning of his Indian nature, had not given Saint
Jimmy the whole truth in his explanation of Hugh Edwards’ manner.</p>
<p>Natachee remembered that the man who had promoted that investment
company, and who had used his power, as the president of the
institution, to rob the people of their savings, and who, to shield
himself, had sent Donald Payne, an innocent man, to prison, was George
Willard Clinton.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page_324" id="page_324">{324}</SPAN></span></p>
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