"Before we
part," he murmured, persuasively, "you wouldn't mind leaving me
something as a souvenir, would you?" He turned the skull-like
openings of the mask full upon Miss Post.
Mrs. Truesdall exclaimed, hysterically: "Why, certainly not!" she
cried. "Here's everything I have, except what's sewn inside my waist,
where I can't possibly get at it. I assure you I cannot. The
proprietor of that hotel told us we'd probably--meet you, and so I
have everything ready." She thrust her two hands through the window.
They held a roll of bills, a watch, and her rings
Miss Post laughed in an ecstasy of merriment "Oh, no, aunt," she
protested, "don't. No, not at all. The gentleman only wants a
keepsake. Something to remember us by. Isn't that it?" she asked. She
regarded the blood-red mask steadily with a brilliant smile.
The road agent did not at once answer. At her words he had started
back with such sharp suspicion that one might have thought he
meditated instant flight. Through the holes in his mask he now glared
searchingly at Miss Post, but still in silence.
"I think this will satisfy him," said Miss Post.
Out of the collection in her aunt's hands she picked a silver coin
and held it forward.
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