One summer day a beautiful Mexican girl was sitting motionless on horseback gazing across the ranch of which her adopted father was the owner, when a young man, tall, of good appearance, and pleasant address, came up and respectfully raised his cap. The girl instantly smiled a welcome, for in that remote region strangers were few, and it was the custom of the country to welcome and entertain them. But this young man had no desire to be taken to the ranch house. He wanted to have a chat with the beauty, and as he was handsome and ingratiating the impressionable girl readily consented to give him half an hour of her time.

James Addison Beavis, for that was the stranger's name, told a wonderful story to the dark-eyed damsel, who listened as if spellbound.

"This is not the first time I have seen you," he said in a pleasing, confidential manner that was delightfully intimate and brotherly. "I have often watched you galloping about on the ranch, but I wanted to be quite certain that you are the person I have been looking for for years before I spoke."

"Looking for me!" she exclaimed in wonderment.

"Yes," he said quickly, and dropped his voice. "Do you know that your real name is Peralta, and that with my help you will soon be the owner of lands in Arizona and New Mexico worth one hundred million dollars?" She gasped. Could it be possible? She was half-Spanish, half-Mexican, and therefore hot-tempered and romantic, and it was easy for her to persuade herself that she was something better than the adopted daughter of a Mexican ranch-owner, who had taken her into his house out of pure charity. Dolores felt that she had been meant for something better.

Beavis, who was a cute man of the world, and possessed of an eloquent tongue, sat beside her on the trunk of an old tree, and explained why it was that a huge tract of land was awaiting an owner, land which would make its eventual possessor a multi-millionaire. He said that hundreds of years ago a Spanish king had made over the rich lands of Peralta to a certain Spanish nobleman, whose descendants had enjoyed the revenues, until, owing to various misfortunes, there seemed to be a lack of heirs. The property had then been taken charge of by the United States Government, and its revenues had been, and still were, accumulating, but he had been inspired to make an independent research, and he could now prove by legal documents that Dolores was the only living descendant of the last owner of the huge estate. He promised to produce the necessary birth and marriage certificates which established his contention that Dolores Peralta was the legal proprietor of an estate half the size of Great Britain.

Dolores herself had only a vague idea as to how she had become an orphan, but the fascinating and persuasive Beavis had the whole story at his finger-ends. He declared that when she was an infant her parents had been drowned whilst crossing a river, and that Dolores had been rescued by an Indian squaw, who had later on abandoned her. After passing through various hands she had come into the keeping of the Mexican who had adopted her, and with him she had spent the last fifteen of her eighteen years, passing as his daughter, and generally understood to be his heir. But now that she was told by Beavis that she had only to trust her affairs to him to become worth £20,000,000, the ranch seemed but a poor and sordid affair and unworthy of her. She wanted to obtain her rights and to take her place in society, and the more she listened to Beavis the more inclined she was to give him not only charge of her affairs, but also the keeping of her heart. For Beavis was an expert talker, and Dolores was not the only victim of his honeyed tongue.

They made a compact there and then that Beavis was to go ahead with the task of obtaining the property for her. Dolores had, of course, no money to advance for expenses, but this did not worry Beavis. He went to New York, and obtained an interview with Mackay, the famous millionaire, who earned the name of "The Silver King." Mr. Mackay was so impressed that he advanced sufficient capital to enable Beavis to proceed to Spain to prosecute his inquiries.

Of course, the whole affair was a barefaced swindle. There was certainly a Peralta estate awaiting a claimant and it was worth twenty million pounds, but Dolores, the girl of the ranch, was not a Peralta at all. Beavis, however, meant to get that huge fortune, even if he had to share it with the girl. It was in his opinion a stake well worth risking much for. He was an expert forger, and his knowledge of human nature was immense. Besides that he had the great gift of patience, and he was willing to spend years if necessary perfecting his plans before putting them into execution.

It was easy enough for him to forge birth, marriage and death certificates, as well as a deed of gift conveying the property to the Peralta family, but he wanted something else besides documents. Dolores, who was in reality of obscure birth, looked the aristocrat to the life. She was undeniably beautiful, and her carriage was the last word in haughty aloofness, though the girl was a charming companion when with those she liked. Beavis had found her delightful, and whilst he was prosecuting his inquiries in Spain he never forgot the beauty of the lonely ranch.

Day after day he toured the curiosity shops of Madrid, delving into dusty cellars and examining everything, picture, paper, or curio, which bore the stamp of age. Only Beavis would have devoted so much time to a single detail when practically his case was ready, but his perseverance was rewarded when he came upon two ancient miniatures which were strikingly like Dolores. They represented two Spanish ladies who had existed a hundred years earlier, and they might have been mother and daughter, judging by their resemblance to one another, but they interested the impostor for the reason that their features were exact replicas of Dolores'.

From the moment they became Beavis' by purchase he called them miniatures of two of Dolores' ancestors, and he exhibited them as her great-great-grandmother and a remote aunt. They were Peraltas, and bore the Peralta cast of countenance—at least Beavis said so, and he professed to be the only living authority on a famous Spanish family which had come upon evil days.

Every week he heard from Dolores, and it ought to have been obvious to him that the girl was thinking less of the twenty millions than she was of her "gallant knight errant." She was really more concerned with his welfare than with the prospect of becoming the richest woman in the world. Beavis smiled as he read her somewhat artless compositions. It was the money he was after, and he was too clever an adventurer and impostor to have any time for love-making, although Dolores was undoubtedly a beauty.

Thanks to the financial help of "The Silver King," Beavis was able to do his work thoroughly in Spain before returning to the United States, and when he arrived in New York he brought with him a pile of documents bearing on the Peralta family. The two miniatures occupied a prominent place, and the forged deed of gift, so skilfully executed that Beavis confidently handed it over to experts for examination, was also to the fore. Those who had heard of Beavis' activities were greatly excited, for it is not often that a claimant comes forward to an estate worth in American money one hundred million dollars.

But before he came into Court on behalf of Dolores there was one important thing to be done. Beavis had devoted years of labour to the task. He was going to risk a year's imprisonment, and he considered it only right that, to make assurance doubly sure as far as his reward was concerned, Dolores should become his wife.

It was a casual remark in a New York restaurant that decided him to propose to her. A friend, who was a world-renowned handwriting expert, and who had pronounced the forged deed of gift to be genuine, laughingly tried to estimate the number of proposals the heiress would have when it was known who and what she was. That night Beavis took the train to the town nearest the ranch, where by arrangement Dolores met him to hear all about his adventures.

The meeting was a strange one. Beavis was full of the subject which engrossed him day and night, and he wanted to go at once into details, but Dolores seemed to be uninterested in everything and everybody except him. She wished to know how he was, and if he was well and happy, and as she sat beside him her dark eyes constantly travelled in his direction, and there were tears in them sometimes.

Dolores was, as a matter of fact, desperately in love with Beavis. At the back of her brain there was a shrewd suspicion that there was no Peralta estate, and that she was only his partner in a gigantic swindle, but she loved him, and that was sufficient for her. It was of no importance if the Peralta property was a myth. Beavis had won her heart, and she had spent months of anxiety, fostered by a growing jealousy, because she feared that in the luxurious cities of Europe he would meet a girl who would make him forget the wild beauty of the ranch.

Beavis quickly realized the situation, and with a merry laugh and a few compliments asked her to marry him. He was not prepared for her answer. No sooner had he spoken than she flung herself at his feet, and passionately announced her intention of devoting the rest of her life to his welfare.

It was a real love romance within a sordid, miserable fraud. Beavis, who prided himself upon his knowledge of men and women, could not understand the love he had aroused in the breast of this veritable child of nature. He, who would have sold himself body and soul for money, was astounded that Dolores should be happier as his fiancÉe than as the prospective owner of twenty million pounds. She would look bored when he spoke of their future splendour when they came into the Peralta money, but if he referred, however obliquely, to her as his wife her face would light up and her manner change at once into that of a happy, delighted girl.

The old ranch-owner offered no objection to the match, and the marriage promptly took place in a remote town, none of those present being aware that this ceremony was to be the prelude to one of the biggest law cases in the history of the United States. Beavis was not in love with his bride. He wanted her money, but Dolores was enchantingly happy, and had she not known that she would have displeased her husband by the suggestion she would have asked him to retire from the Peralta case and let them find and make their own happiness in a little ranch away from the poverty and crimes of cities. But to Beavis nothing mattered except the Peralta millions, and the day after the marriage ceremony he took his lovely bride to New York, where they established themselves in one of the leading hotels, there to await the opening of the suit before the Court of Claims.

The smooth and persuasive tongue of the bridegroom and the beauty and naturalness of the bride carried all before them in New York. Beavis had certainly done his work well, but when level-headed lawyers, suspicious by nature, met Mrs. Beavis they immediately capitulated. There is no other explanation of the extraordinary number of adherents they made for their cause.

They entertained lavishly, using the money which their guests had subscribed for the presentation of Dolores' case before the Courts. It might have been supposed that the ranch girl would have been at a disadvantage in such society, coming as she did from the heart of prairie-land, but because she insisted upon being herself she scored social triumph after social triumph.

The impostor was, of course, the happiest man in New York. It seemed impossible that he should fail. In fact, everybody agreed that the trial would be the most formal of affairs. His cleverness and Dolores' beauty were irresistible, and he would have to be a hard-headed, unfeeling judge who could resist the appeal her eyes made.

Backed by some of the leading business people in New York, his case, presented by a firm of lawyers justly renowned for its ability, and with his wife to cheer him on, Beavis went into Court certain that he would leave it one of the richest men in America. Dolores and he sat side by side whilst counsel argued before the judges and endeavoured to prove that the adopted daughter of the Mexican ranch-owner was the descendant of the Counts of Peralta, who had originally come from Spain. Beavis gave his evidence with confidence and, of course, courage. When a man is playing for such a stake as twenty millions he requires both in abundance.

The end of the first day of the case foreshadowed an easy victory. Beavis was overjoyed, and Dolores was happy just because he was. By now, however, she had seen enough of the documents to guess that the whole claim was bogus. She was the daughter of nameless parents, and, no matter what the Court decided, she would never know who her forbears really were. It did not matter much to her, yet because she loved the impostor she became even more anxious for success than he was, and she knew that if anything went wrong it would break her heart.

Had the estate not been so enormous the United States Court of Claims would not have so doggedly resisted Beavis' claim, but the officials realized that it would be best for all concerned if the question of ownership was decided once and for all. Because of that they took the precaution to despatch an expert in pedigrees and old documents to Madrid, to go over the ground that Beavis had covered and to inquire especially into the history of the all-important deed of gift.

The claimant was not aware of this, if he had been it might have disturbed the serenity with which he faced the Court. But everything was going his way, and there was always his lovely and devoted wife to whisper that they were winning and that their suspense would soon be ended.

It is doubtful if there has ever been a case where an impostor has failed by such a narrow margin as Beavis did. The Government officials had been receiving regular reports from their emissary in Spain, and each one strengthened rather than weakened the claimant's case; accordingly, the presiding judge was actually drawing up a judgment in favour of Dolores when at the eleventh hour a report came from Madrid which pointed to the fact that the Government agent had discovered that Beavis' deed of gift was a barefaced forgery.

Once that was known there was, of course, no chance for the impostor. It naturally followed that the history of all the other documents presented by Beavis was inquired into, and then the system of wholesale forgery came to light. Step by step his progress in his greatest imposture was traced. His numerous birth, death and marriage certificates were shown to be worthless; the dealer who had sold the miniatures to him was produced, and gave damaging evidence, and the impostor was left without a leg to stand upon.

The case came to a dramatic finish, the judge announcing unexpectedly that it was dismissed. The Court gasped. Beavis pretended to be astonished, and he glanced around with a smiling face, but his eyes were searching for detectives, and he identified two in the men who now stood by the door of the Court. They posed as ushers, but the impostor realized that their business was never to let him out of their sight until they had clapped him into a cell.

Poor Dolores was most affected by his arrest, which Beavis chose to regard as an official blunder and one which he would soon put right. The girl who loved him, however, knew that it would be a long time ere he was free again. He would have to pay the penalty for his gigantic imposture, and as she thought of the years of separation her tears flowed.

As in the case of the claim to the Peralta estate, Beavis bore himself well at the criminal trial. It was, of course, easy for the prosecution to prove his guilt, and the leading citizens who had backed him felt particularly foolish when they understood how they had been tricked. It was, perhaps, only human that Dolores should find herself without a friend when the judge sentenced her husband to a long term of imprisonment. The society that had fawned upon and flattered her now gave her the cold shoulder. But the lonely wife did not mind. She had determined to work hard and wait patiently until the man she loved returned to her.

Some years ago when an English nobleman was sentenced to five years' penal servitude his wife took up her residence as near as possible to the gaol in which he was incarcerated. Dolores Beavis went one better. She toiled so that she might have the means to start her husband in business when he came out of gaol; and to achieve her object she underwent toil and trouble and insult.

When, later, he was removed to another gaol she would give up her employment and follow on foot, afraid to spend any of her savings on railways, and denying herself sufficient food in order that the precious "nest-egg" might not be diminished.

Beavis knew what she was doing for him, and the knowledge of it changed his nature. Money ceased to be his god. He had not appreciated Dolores when he had her all to himself, but whilst he sat in his lonely cell and remembered that she was outside the gloomy gaol working herself to the bone for him his nature softened, and he fell in love with her. Better men have inspired less devotion; fewer have known such love as Dolores bestowed upon the man to whom she had surrendered her heart.

Once Beavis, maddened by inaction, determined to escape, and he managed to communicate his intention to his wife. She implored him not to make the attempt, which would be certain to fail, and which would therefore result in an addition to his term of imprisonment. He took her advice, and a day later found that one of the party of convicts who had planned a simultaneous dash for freedom was a spy in the pay of the governor of the prison, so that there never had been the slightest chance of success. But even the longest sentence must come to an end, and after a period of separation which had seemed like eternity to both of them Beavis walked out of the prison gates a free man. The first person he saw was Dolores, dressed simply in black and looking more beautiful than ever. Without a word they went away arm in arm to begin life anew.

Beavis had a sense of humour, and he must have realized the funny side of the scene when Dolores proudly told him that she had scraped together the large sum of forty-eight dollars! To the man who had once refused to think of anything under a million this was a descent from the sublime to the ridiculous, yet the impostor, who had paid for his sins, could find himself regarding her fortune with enthusiasm, and he could spend hours debating as to the best way to lay it out with advantage to themselves.

It was Dolores who decided their future. She had been brought up on a ranch and away from the crowded centres, so she voted for a small farm in a remote corner of the great United States, and Beavis willingly submitted. The Peralta estate and its twenty million pounds seemed like a dream now, and he would not have troubled to devote even an hour to a similar scheme even if it promised to produce twice as much.

Thus it was his wife's love that saved James Addison Beavis from himself, and made his name unfamiliar to the police. His one great adventure in crime had met with disaster, and ever afterwards he was content with the fortune the labour of his hands earned for him.