all, of the stealth, the watchfulness, the endless vigilance, the lack
of rest. One more coup, one lucky haul, and he was done. Then there
would be the ranch, peace, security, an honest ending, and Pancha,
believing, never knowing.




CHAPTER XI

THE SOLID GOLD NUGGET


The autumn was drawing to an end and the winter season settling into its
gait. Everybody was back in town, at least Mrs. Wesson said so in her
column, where she also prophesied a program of festivities for the coming
six months. This was reassuring as Mrs. Wesson was supposed to know, and
anyway there were signs of it already--a first tentative outbreak of
parties, little dinners cropping up here and there. People who did things
were trailing back from Europe, bringing new clothes and ideas with which
to abash the stay-at-homes. Big houses were opening and little houses
that had been open all along were trying to pretend they had been shut.
Furs were being hung on clothes lines and raincoats brought out of
closets. Violets would soon be blooming around the roots of the live oaks
and the Marin County hills be green. In short the San Francisco winter
was at hand.

The Alston house had been cleaned and set in order from the cellar to the
roof and in its dustless, shining spaciousness Lorry sat down and faced
her duties. The time had come for her to act. Chrystie must take her