The last sound that Mike Clinch heard on earth was the detonation of his own rifle. Probably it was an agreeable sound to him. He lay there with a pleasant expression on his massive features. His watch had fallen out of his pocket.
Quintana shined him with an electric torch; picked up the watch. Then, holding the torch in one hand, he went through the dead man's pockets very thoroughly.
When Quintana had finished, both trays of the flat morocco case were full of jewels. And Quintana was full of wonder and suspicion.
Unquietly he looked upon the dead -- upon the glittering contents of the jewel-box, -- but always his gaze reverted to the dead. The faintest shadow of a smile edged Clinch's lips. Quintana's lips grew graver. He said slowly, like one who does his thinking aloud: "What is it you have done to me, l'ami Clinch? ... Are there truly two sets of precious stones? -- two Flaming Jewels? -- two gems of Erosite like there never has been in all thees worl' excep' only two more? ... Or is one set false? ... Have I here one set of paste facsimiles? ... My frien' Clinch, why do you lie there an' smile at me so ver' funny ... like you are amuse? ... I am wondering what you may have done to me, my frien' Clinch. ..."
For a while he remained kneeling beside the dead. Then: "Ah, bah," he said, pocketing the morocco case and getting to his feet.
He moved a little way toward the open trail, stopped, came back, stood his rifle against a tree.
For a while he was busy with his sharp Spanish clasp knife, whittling and fitting together two peeled twigs. A cross was the ultimate result. Then he placed Clinch's hands palm to palm upon his chest, lay the cross on his breast, and shined the result with complacency.
Then Quintana took off his hat.
"L'ami Mike," he said, "you were a man! ... Adios!"
* * * *
Quintana put on his hat. The path was free. The world lay open before Jose Quintana once more; -- the world, his hunting ground.
"But," he thought uneasily, "what is it that I bring home this time? How much is paste? My God, how droll that smile of Clinch. ... Which is the false -- his jewels or mine? Dieu que j'etais bete!---- Me who have not suspec' that there are two trays within my jewel-box! ... I unnerstan'. It is ver' simple. In the top tray the false gems. Ah! Paste on top to deceive a thief! ... Alors. ... Then what I have recover of Clinch is the real! ... Nom de Dieu! ... I think thees dead man make mock of me -- all inside himse'f----"