MAX BRAND

RONICKY DOONE

1921

Chapter One

_A Horse in Need_

He came into the town as a solid, swiftly moving dust cloud. The windfrom behind had kept the dust moving forward at a pace just equal tothe gallop of his horse. Not until he had brought his mount to a haltin front of the hotel and swung down to the ground did either he orhis horse become distinctly visible. Then it was seen that the animalwas in the last stages of exhaustion, with dull eyes and hanging headand forelegs braced widely apart, while the sweat dripped steadilyfrom his flanks into the white dust on the street. Plainly he had beenpushed to the last limit of his strength. 

The rider was almost as far spent as his mount, for he went up thesteps of the hotel with his shoulders sagging with weariness, awide-shouldered, gaunt-ribbed man. Thick layers of dust had turned hisred kerchief and his blue shirt to a common gray. Dust, too, madea mask of his face, and through that mask the eyes peered out, surrounded by pink skin. Even at its best the long, solemn face couldnever have been called handsome. But, on this particular day, heseemed a haunted man, or one fleeing from an inescapable danger. 

The two loungers at the door of the hotel instinctively stepped asideand made room for him to pass, but apparently he had no desire toenter the building. Suddenly he became doubly imposing, as he stood onthe veranda and stared up and down at the idlers. Certainly his throatmust be thick and hot with dust, but an overmastering purpose made himoblivious of thirst. 

"Gents, " he said huskily, while a gust of wind fanned a cloud of dustfrom his clothes, "is there anybody in this town can gimme a hoss toget to Stillwater, inside three hours' riding?"

He waited a moment, his hungry eyes traveling eagerly from face toface. Naturally the oldest man spoke first, since this was a matter oflife and death. 

"Any hoss in town can get you there in that time, if you know theshort way across the mountain. "

"How do you take it? That's the way for me. "

But the old fellow shook his head and smiled in pity. "Not if youain't rode it before. I used to go that way when I was a kid, butnowadays nobody rides that way except Doone. That trail is as trickyas the ways of a coyote; you'd sure get lost without a guide. "

The stranger turned and followed the gesture of the speaker. Themountain rose from the very verge of the town, a ragged mass of sandand rock, with miserable sagebrush clinging here and there, as dulland uninteresting as the dust itself. Then he lowered the hand frombeneath which he had peered and faced about with a sigh. "I guess itain't much good trying that way. But I got to get to Stillwater insideof three hours. "

"They's one hoss in town can get you there, " said the old man. "Butyou can't get that hoss today. "

The stranger groaned. "Then I'll make another hoss stretch out anddo. "

"Can't be done. Doone's hoss is a marvel. Nothing else about here cantouch him, and he's the only one that can make the trip around themountain, inside of three hours. You'd kill another hoss trying to doit, what with your weight. "

The stranger groaned again and struck his knuckles against hisforehead. "But why can't I get the hoss? Is Doone out of town withit?"

"The hoss ain't out of town, but Doone is. "

The traveler clenched his fists. This delay and waste of pricelesstime was maddening him. "Gents, " he called desperately, "I got toget to Martindale today. It's more than life or death to me. Where'sDoone's hoss?"

"Right across the road, " said the old man who had spoken first. "Overyonder in the corral--the bay. "

The traveler turned and saw, beyond the road, a beautiful mare, notvery tall, but a mare whose every inch of her fifteen three proclaimedstrength and speed. At that moment she raised her head and lookedacross to him, and the heart of the rider jumped into his throat. Thevery sight of her was an omen of victory, and he made a long stride inher direction, but two men came before him. The old fellow jumped fromthe chair and tapped his arm. 

"You ain't going to take the bay without getting leave from Doone?"

"Gents, I got to, " said the stranger. "Listen! My name's Gregg, BillGregg. Up in my country they know I'm straight; down here you ain'theard of me. I ain't going to keep that hoss, and I'll pay a hundreddollars for the use of her for one day. I'll bring or send her backsafe and sound, tomorrow. Here's the money. One of you gents, that's afriend of Doone, take it for him. "

Not a hand was stretched out; every head shook in negation. 

"I'm too fond of the little life that's left to me, " said the oldfellow. "I won't rent out that hoss for him. Why, he loves that marelike she was his sister. He'd fight like a flash rather than seeanother man ride her. "

But Bill Gregg had his eyes on the bay, and the sight of her wasstealing his reason. He knew, as well as he knew that he was a man, that, once in the saddle on her, he would be sure to win. Nothingcould stop him. And straight through the restraining circle he brokewith a groan of anxiety. 

Only the old man who had been the spokesman called after him: "Gregg, don't be a fool. Maybe you don't recognize the name of Doone, but thewhole name is Ronicky Doone. Does that mean anything to you?"

Into the back of Gregg's mind came several faint memories, but theywere obscure and uncertain. "Blast your Ronicky Doone!" he replied. "Igot to have that hoss, and, if none of you'll take money for her rent, I'll take her free and pay her rent when I come through this waytomorrow, maybe. S'long!"

While he spoke he had been undoing the cinches of his own horse. Nowhe whipped the saddle and bridle off, shouted to the hotel keeperbrief instructions for the care of the weary animal and ran across theroad with the saddle on his arm. 

In the corral he had no difficulty with the mare. She came straight tohim in spite of all the flopping trappings. With prickly ears and eyeslighted with kindly curiosity she looked the dusty fellow over. 

He slipped the bridle over her head. When he swung the saddle over herback she merely turned her head and carelessly watched it fall. Andwhen he drew up the cinches hard, she only stamped in mock anger. Themoment he was in the saddle she tossed her head eagerly, ready to beoff. 

He looked across the street to the veranda of the hotel, as he passedthrough the gate of the corral. The men were standing in a long andawe-stricken line, their eyes wide, their mouths agape. WhoeverRonicky Doone might be, he was certainly a man who had won the respectof this town. The men on the veranda looked at Bill Gregg as thoughhe were already a ghost. He waved his hand defiantly at them and themare, at a word from him, sprang into a long-striding gallop thatwhirled them rapidly down the street and out of the village. 

The bay mare carried him with amazing speed over the ground. Theyrounded the base of the big mountain, and, glancing up at the raggedcanyons which chopped the face of the peak, he was glad that he hadnot attempted that short cut. If Ronicky Doone could make that trailhe was a skillful horseman. 

Bill Gregg swung up over the left shoulder of the mountain and foundhimself looking down on the wide plain which held Stillwater. The airwas crystal-clear and dry; the shoulder of the mountain was high aboveit; Gregg saw a breathless stretch of the cattle country at one sweepof his eyes. 

Stillwater was still a long way off, and far away across the plain hesaw a tiny moving dot that grew slowly. It was the train heading forStillwater, and that train he must beat to the station. For a momenthis heart stood still; then he saw that the train was distant indeed, and, by the slightest use of the mare's speed, he would be able toreach the town, two or three minutes ahead of it. 

But, just as he was beginning to exult in the victory, after all thehard riding of the past three days, the mare tossed up her head andshortened her stride. The heart of Gregg stopped, and he went cold. Itwas not only the fear that his journey might be ruined, but the fearthat something had happened to this magnificent creature beneath him. He swung to the side in the saddle and watched her gallop. Certain shewent laboring, very much as though she were trying to run against amighty pull on the reins. 

He looked at her head. It was thrown high, with pricking ears. Perhapsshe was frightened by some foolish thing near the road. He touched herwith the spurs, and she increased her pace to the old length andease of stride; but, just as he had begun to be reassured, her stepshortened and fell to laboring again, and this time she threw her headhigher than before. It was amazing to Bill Gregg; and then it seemedto him that he heard a faint, far whistling, floating down from highabove his head. 

Again that thin, long-drawn sound, and this time, glancing over hisright shoulder, he saw a horseman plunging down the slope of themountain. He knew instantly that it was Ronicky Doone. The man hadcome to recapture his horse and had taken the short cut across themountain to come up with her. Just by a fraction of a minute Doonewould be too late, for, by the time he came down onto the trail, the bay would be well ahead, and certainly no horse lived in thosemountains capable of overtaking her when she felt like running. Greggtouched her again with the spurs, but this time she reared straight upand, whirling to the side, faced steadily toward her onrushing master. 

Chapter Two

_Friendly Enemies_

Again and again Gregg spurred the bay cruelly. 

She winced from the pain and snorted, but, apparently having not theslightest knowledge of bucking, she could only shake her head and senda ringing whinny of appeal up the slope of the mountain, toward theapproaching rider. 

In spite of the approaching danger, in spite of this delay which wasruining his chances of getting to Stillwater before the train, BillGregg watched in marvel and delight the horsemanship of the stranger. Ronicky Doone, if this were he, was certainly the prince of all wildriders. 

Even as the mare stopped in answer to the signal of her owner, RonickyDoone sent his mount over the edge of a veritable cliff, flung himback on his haunches and slid down the gravelly slope, careeningfrom side to side. With a rush of pebbles about him and a dust cloudwhirling after, Ronicky Doone broke out into the road ahead of themare, and she whinnied softly again to greet him. 

Bill Gregg found himself looking not into the savage face of sucha gunfighter as he had been led to expect, but a handsome fellow, several years younger than he, a high-headed, straight-eyed, buoyanttype. In his seat in the saddle, in the poise of his head and the playof his hand on the reins Bill Gregg recognized a boundless nervousforce. There was nothing ponderous about Ronicky Doone. Indeed he wasnot more than middle size, but, as he reined his horse in the middleof the road and looked with flashing eyes at Bill Gregg, he appearedvery large indeed. 

Gregg was used to fighting or paying his way, or doing both at thesame time, as occasion offered. He decided that this was certainly anoccasion for much money and few words. 

"You're Doone, I guess, " he said, "and you know that I've played apretty bad trick on you, taking your hoss this way. But I wanted topay for it, Doone, and I'll pay now. I've got to get to Stillwaterbefore that train. Look at her! I haven't hurt her any. Her wind isn'ttouched. She's pretty wet, but sweat never hurt nothing on four feet, eh?"

"I dunno, " returned Ronicky Doone. "I'd as soon run off with a man'swife as his hoss. "

"Partner, " said Bill Gregg desperately, "I have to get there!"

"Then get there on your own feet, not the feet of another gent'shoss. "

Gregg controlled his rising anger. Beyond him the train was loominglarger and larger in the plain, and Stillwater seemed more and moredistant. He writhed in the saddle. 

"I tell you I'll pay--I'll pay the whole value of the hoss, if youwant. "

He was about to say more when he saw the eyes of Ronicky Doone widenand fix. 

"Look, " said the other suddenly, "you've been cutting her up with thespurs!"

Gregg glanced down to the flank of the bay to discover that he hadused the spurs more recklessly than he thought. A sharp rowel hadpicked through the skin, and, though it was probably only a slightwound indeed, it had brought a smear of red to the surface. 

Ronicky Doone trembled with anger. 

"Confound you!" he said furiously. "Any fool would have known that youdidn't need a spur on that hoss! What part d'you come from where theyteach you to kill a hoss when you ride it? Can you tell me that?"

"I'll tell you after I get to Stillwater. "

"I'll see you hung before I see you in Stillwater. "

"You've talked too much, Doone, " Gregg said huskily. 

"I've just begun, " said Doone. 

"Then take this and shut up, " exclaimed Bill Gregg. 

Ordinarily he was the straightest and the squarest man in the world ina fight. But a sudden anger had flared up in him. He had an impulse tokill; to get rid of this obstacle between him and everything he wantedmost in life. Without more warning than that he snatched out hisrevolver and fired point blank at Ronicky Doone. Certainly all theapproaches to a fight had been made, and Doone might have beenexpecting the attack. At any rate, as the gun shot out of Gregg'sholster, the other swung himself sidewise in his own saddle and, snapping out his revolver, fired from the hip. 

That swerve to the side saved him, doubtless, from the shot of Gregg;his own bullet plowed cleanly through the thigh of the other rider. The whole leg of Gregg went numb, and he found himself slumpinghelplessly to one side. He dropped his gun, and he had to cling withboth hands to lower himself out of the saddle. Now he sat in the dustof the trail and stared stupidly, not at his conqueror, but at thetrain that was flashing into the little town of Stillwater, just belowthem. 

He hardly heeded Ronicky Doone, as the latter started forward with anoath, knelt beside him and examined the wound. "It's clean, " Doonesaid, as he started ripping up his undershirt to make bandages. "I'llhave you fixed so you can be gotten into Stillwater. "

He began to work rapidly, twisting the clothes around Gregg's thigh, which he had first laid bare by some dexterous use of a hunting knife. 

Then Gregg turned his eyes to those of Doone. The train had pulled outof Stillwater. The sound of the coughing of the engine, as it startedup, came faintly to them after a moment. 

"Of all the darned fools!" said the two men in one voice. 

And then they grinned at each other. Certainly it was not the firstfight or the first wound for either of them. 

"I'm sorry, " they began again, speaking together in chorus. 

"Matter of fact, " said Ronicky Doone, "that bay means a pile to me. When I seen the red on her side--"

"Can't be more than a chance prick. "

"I know, " said Ronicky, "but I didn't stop to think. "

"And I should of give you fair warning before I went for the gat. "

"Look here, " said Ronicky, "you talk like a straight sort of a gent tome. "

"And you thought I was a cross between a hoss thief and a gunfighter?"

"I dunno what I thought, except that I wanted the mare back. Stranger, I'm no end sorry this has happened. Maybe you'd lemme know why you wasin such a hurry to get to Stillwater. If they's any trouble comingdown the road behind you, maybe I can help take care of it for you. "And he smiled coldly and significantly at Bill Gregg. 

The latter eyed with some wonder the man who had just shot him downand was now offering to fight for his safety. "Nothing like that, "said Bill. "I was going to Stillwater to meet a girl. "

"As much of a rush as all that to see a girl?"

"On that train. "

Ronicky Doone whistled softly. "And I messed it up! But why didn't youtell me what you wanted?"

"I didn't have a chance. Besides I could not waste time in talking andexplaining to everybody along the road. "

"Sure you couldn't, but the girl'll forgive you when she finds outwhat happened. "

"No, she won't, because she'll never find out. "

"Eh?"

"I don't know where she is. "

"Riding all that way just to see a girl--"

"It's a long story, partner, and this leg is beginning to act up. Tellyou the best thing would be for you to jump on your mare and jog intoStillwater for a buckboard and then come back and get me. What d'yousay?"

Twenty minutes after Ronicky Doone had swung into the saddle and raceddown the road, the buckboard arrived and the wounded man was helped onto a pile of blankets in the body of the wagon. 

The shooting, of course, was explained by the inevitable gun accident. Ronicky Doone happened to be passing along that way and saw Bill Gregglooking over his revolver as he rode along. At that moment the gunexploded and--

The two men who had come out in the buckboard listened to the talewith expressionless faces. As a matter of fact they had already heardin Stillwater that no less a person than Ronicky Doone was on his waytoward that village in pursuit of a man who had ridden off on thefamous bay mare, Lou. But they accepted Ronicky's bland version of theaccident with perfect calm and with many expressions of sympathy. Theywould have other things to say after they had deposited the woundedman in Stillwater. 

The trip in was a painful one for Bill Gregg. For one thing theexhaustion of the long three days' trip was now causing a wave ofweariness to sweep over him. The numbness, which had come through theleg immediately after the shooting, was now replaced by a steady andcontinued aching. And more than all he was unnerved by the sense ofutter failure, utter loss. Never in his life had he fought so bitterlyand steadily for a thing, and yet he had lost at the very verge ofsuccess. 

Chapter Three

_At Stillwater_

The true story was, of course, known almost at once, but, sinceRonicky Doone swore that he would tackle the first man who accused himof having shot down Bill Gregg, the talk was confined to whispers. Inthe meantime Stillwater rejoiced in its possession of Ronicky Doone. Beyond one limited section of the mountain desert he was not asyet known, but he had one of those personalities which are calledelectric. Whatever he did seemed greater because he, Ronicky Doone, had done it. 

Not that he had done a great many things as yet. But there was apeculiar feeling in the air that Ronicky Doone was capable of greatand strange performances. Men older than he were willing to accept himas their leader; men younger than he idolized him. 

Ronicky Doone, then, the admired of all beholders, is leaning in thedoorway of Stillwater's second and best hotel. His bandanna today isa terrific yellow, set off with crimson half-moon and stars strewnliberally on it. His shirt is merely white, but it is given somesignificance by having nearly half of a red silk handkerchief fallingout of the breast pocket. His sombrero is one of those works of artwhich Mexican families pass from father to son, only his was new andhad not yet received that limp effect of age. And, like the gaudiestMexican head piece, the band of this sombrero was of purest gold, beaten into the forms of various saints. Ronicky Doone knew nothing atall about saints, but he approved very much of the animation of themartyrdom scenes and felt reasonably sure that his hatband could notbe improved upon in the entire length and breadth of Stillwater, andthe young men of the town agreed with him, to say nothing of thegirls. 

They also admired his riding gloves which, a strange affectation in acountry of buckskin, were always the softest and the smoothest and themost comfortable kid that could be obtained. 

Truth to tell, he did not handle a rope. He could not tell the nooseend of a lariat from the straight end, hardly. Neither did RonickyDoone know the slightest thing about barbed wire, except how to cutit when he wished to ride through. Let us look closely at the handsthemselves, as Ronicky stands in the door of the hotel and stares atthe people walking by. For he has taken off his gloves and he nowrolls a cigarette. 

They are very long hands. The fingers are extremely slender andtapering. The wrists are round and almost as innocent of sinews as thewrists of a woman, save when he grips something, and then how theystand out. But, most remarkable of all, the skin of the palms of thosehands is amazingly soft. It is truly as soft as the skin of the handof a girl. 

There were some who shook their heads when they saw those hands. Therewere some who inferred that Ronicky Doone was little better than ascapegrace, and that, in reality, he had never done a better or moreuseful thing than handle cards and swing a revolver. In both of whicharts it was admitted that he was incredibly dexterous. As a matterof fact, since there was no estate from which he drew an income, andsince he had never been known in the entire history of his young lifeto do a single stroke of productive work of any kind, the bittertruth was that Ronicky Doone was no better and no worse than a commongambler. 

Indeed, if to play a game of chance is to commit a sin, Ronicky Doonewas a very great sinner. Yet it should be remarked that he lacked thefine art of taking the money of other less clever fellows when theywere intoxicated, and he also lacked the fine hardness of mind whichenables many gamblers to enjoy taking the last cent from an opponent. Also, though he knew the entire list of tricks in the repertoire ofa crooked gambler, he had never been known to employ tricking. He trusted in a calm head, a quick judgment, an ability to readcharacter. And, though he occasionally met with crooked professionalswho were wolves in the guise of sheep, no one had ever been known toplay more than one crooked trick at cards when playing against RonickyDoone. So, on the whole, he made a very good living. 

What he had he gave or threw away in wild spending or loaned tofriends, of whom he had a vast number. All of which goes to explainthe soft hands of Ronicky Doone and his nervous, swift-moving fingers, as he stood at the door of the hotel. For he who plays long with cardsor dice begins to have a special sense developed in the tips of hisfingers, so that they seem to be independent intelligences. 

He crossed his feet. His boots were the finest leather, bench-made bythe best of bootmakers, and they fitted the high-arched instep withthe elastic smoothness of gloves. The man of the mountain desertdresses the extremities and cares not at all for the mid sections. The moment Doone was off his horse those boots had to be dressed andrubbed and polished to softness and brightness before this luxuriousgambler would walk about town. From the heels of the boots extended along pair of spurs--surely a very great vanity, for never in her lifehad his beautiful mare, Lou, needed even the touch of a spur. 

But Ronicky Doone could not give up this touch of luxury. The spurswere plated heavily with gold, and they swept up and out in a long, exquisite curve, the hub of the rowel set with diamonds. 

In a word Ronicky Doone was a dandy, but he had this peculiarity, that he seemed to dress to please himself rather than the rest of theworld. His glances never roved about taking account of the admirationof others. As he leaned there in the door of the hotel he was the typeof the young, happy, genuine and carefree fellow, whose mind is noheavier with a thousand dollars or a thousand cents in his pocket. 

Suddenly he started from his lounging place, caught his hat morefirmly over his eyes, threw away his unlighted cigarette and hurriedacross the veranda of the hotel. Had he seen an enemy to chastise, or an old friend to greet, or a pretty girl? No, it was only old JudHarding, the blacksmith, whose hand had lost its strength, but whostill worked iron as others mold putty, simply because he had thegenius for his craft. He was staggering now under a load of boardswhich he had shouldered to carry to his shop. In a moment that loadwas shifted to the shoulder of Ronicky Doone, and they went on downthe street, laughing and talking together until the load was droppedon the floor of Harding's shop. 

"And how's the sick feller coming?" asked Harding. 

"Coming fine, " answered Ronicky. "Couple of days and I'll have him outfor a little exercise. Lucky thing it was a clean wound and didn'tnick the bone. Soon as it's healed over he'll never know he wasplugged. "

Harding considered his young friend with twinkling eyes. "Queer thingto me, " he said, "is how you and this gent Gregg have hit it off sowell together. Might almost say it was like you'd shot Gregg and nowwas trying to make up for it. But, of course, that ain't the truth. "

"Of course not, " said Ronicky gravely and met the eye of Hardingwithout faltering. 

"Another queer thing, " went on the cunning old smith. "He was foolingwith that gun while he was in the saddle, which just means that themuzzle must of been pretty close to his skin. But there wasn't anysign of a powder burn, the doc says. "

"But his trousers was pretty bad burned, I guess, " said Ronicky. 

"H-m, " said the blacksmith, "that's the first time I've heard aboutit. " He went on more seriously: "I got something to tell you, Ronicky. Ever hear the story about the gent that took pity on the snake thatwas stiff with cold and brought the snake in to warm him up beside thefire? The minute the snake come to life he sunk his fangs in the gentthat had saved him. "

"Meaning, " said Ronicky, "that, because I've done a good turn forGregg, I'd better look out for him?"

"Meaning nothing, " said Harding, "except that the reason the snake bitthe gent was because he'd had a stone heaved at him by the same manone day and hadn't forgot it. "

But Ronicky Doone merely laughed and turned back toward the hotel. 

Chapter Four

_His Victim's Trouble_

Yet he could not help pondering on the words of old Harding. BillGregg had been a strange patient. He had never repeated his firstoffer to tell his story. He remained sullen and silent, with hisbrooding eyes fixed on the blank wall before him, and nothing couldpermanently cheer him. Some inward gloom seemed to possess the man. 

The first day after the shooting he had insisted on scrawling apainfully written letter, while Ronicky propped a writing board infront of him, as he lay flat on his back in the bed, but that was hisonly act. Thereafter he remained silent and brooding. Perhaps itwas hatred for Ronicky that was growing in him, as the sense ofdisappointment increased, for Ronicky, after all, had kept him fromreaching that girl when the train passed through Stillwater. Perhaps, for all Ronicky knew, his bullet had ruined the happiness of twolives. He shrugged that disagreeable thought away, and, reaching thehotel, he went straight up to the room of the sick man. 

"Bill, " he said gently, "have you been spending all your time hatingme? Is that what keeps you thin and glum? Is it because you sit hereall day blaming me for all the things that have happened to you?"

The dark flush and the uneasy flicker of Gregg's glance gave asufficient answer. Ronicky Doone sighed and shook his head, but not inanger. 

"You don't have to talk, " he said. "I see that I'm right. And I don'tblame you, Bill, because, maybe, I've spoiled things pretty generallyfor you. "

At first the silence of Bill Gregg admitted that he felt the same wayabout the matter, yet he finally said aloud: "I don't blame you. Maybeyou thought I was a hoss thief. But the thing is done, Ronicky, and itwon't never be undone!"

"Gregg, " said Ronicky, "d'you know what you're going to do now?"

"I dunno. "

"You're going to sit there and roll a cigarette and tell me the wholeyarn. You ain't through with this little chase. Not if I have to dragyou along with me. But first just figure that I'm your older brotheror something like that and get rid of the whole yarn. Got to have theore specimens before you can assay 'em. Besides, it'll help you a pileto get the poison out of your system. If you feel like cussing mehearty when the time comes go ahead and cuss, but I got to hear thatstory. "

"Maybe it would help, " said Gregg, "but it's a fool story to tell. "

"Leave that to me to say whether it's a fool story or not. You startthe talking. "

Gregg shifted himself to a more comfortable position, as is theimmemorial custom of story tellers, and his glance misted a littlewith the flood of recollections. 

"Started along back about a year ago, " he said. "I was up to theSullivan Mountains working a claim. There wasn't much to it, justenough to keep me going sort of comfortable. I pegged away at itpretty steady, leading a lonely life and hoping every day that I'd cutmy way down to a good lead. Well, the fine ore never showed up. 

"Meantime I got pretty weary of them same mountains, staring me in theface all the time. I didn't have even a dog with me for conversation, so I got to thinking. Thinking is a bad thing, mostly, don't youagree, Ronicky?"

"It sure is, " replied Ronicky Doone instantly. "Not a bit of a doubtabout it. "

"It starts you doubting things, " went on Gregg bitterly, "and prettysoon you're even doubting yourself. " Here he cast an envious glance atthe smooth brow of his companion. "But I guess that never happened toyou, Ronicky?"

"You'd be surprised if I told you, " said Ronicky. 

"Well, " went on Bill Gregg, "I got so darned tired of my own thoughtsand of myself that I decided something had ought to be done; somethingto give me new things to think about. So I sat down and went over thewhole deal. 

"I had to get new ideas. Then I thought of what a gent had told meonce. He'd got pretty interested in mining and figured he wanted toknow all about how the fancy things was done. So he sent off to somecorrespondence schools. Well, they're a great bunch. They say: 'Writeus a lot of letters and ask us your questions. Before you're throughyou'll know something you want to know. ' See?"

"I see. "

"I didn't have anything special I wanted to learn except how to usemyself for company when I got tired of solitaire. So I sat down andwrote to this here correspondence school and says: 'I want to dosomething interesting. How d'you figure that I had better begin?' Andwhat d'you think they answered back?"

"I dunno, " said Ronicky, his interest steadily increasing. 

"Well, sir, the first thing they wrote back was: 'We have your letterand think that in the first place you had better learn how to write. 'That was a queer answer, wasn't it?"

"It sure was. " Ronicky swallowed a smile. 

"Every time I looked at that letter it sure made me plumb mad. And Ilooked at it a hundred times a day and come near tearing it up everytime. But I didn't, " continued Bill. 

"Why not?"

"Because it was a woman that wrote it. I told by the hand, after awhile!"

"A woman? Go on, Bill. This story sure sounds different from most. "

"It ain't even started to get different yet, " said Bill gloomily. "Well, that letter made me so plumb mad that I sat down and wroteeverything I could think of that a gent would say to a girl to let herknow what I thought about her. And what d'you think happened?"

"She wrote you back the prettiest letter you ever seen, " suggestedRonicky, "saying as how she'd never meant to make you mad and that ifyou--"

"Say, " broke in Bill Gregg, "did I show that letter to you?"

"Nope; I just was guessing at what a lot of women would do. You see?"

"No, I don't. I could never figure them as close as that. Anywaythat's the thing she done, right enough. She writes me a letter thatwas smooth as oil and suggests that I go on with a composition courseto learn how to write. "

"Going to have you do books, Bill?"

"I ain't a plumb fool, Ronicky. But I thought it wouldn't do me noharm to unlimber my pen and fire out a few words a day. So I done it. I started writing what they told me to write about, the things thatwas around me, with a lot of lessons about how you can't use the sameword twice on one page, and how terrible bad it is to use too manypassive verbs. "

"What's a passive verb, Bill?"

"I didn't never figure it out, exactly. However, it seems like they'resomething that slows you up the way a muddy road slows up a hoss. And then she begun talking about the mountains, and then she begunasking--

"About you!" suggested Ronicky with a grin. 

"Confound you, " said Bill Gregg. "How come you guessed that?"

"I dunno. I just sort of scented what was coming. "

"Well, anyways, that's what she done. And pretty soon she sent me asnapshot of herself. Well--"

"Lemme see it, " said Ronicky Doone calmly. 

"I dunno just where it is, maybe, " replied Bill Gregg. 

"Ill tell you. It's right around your neck, in that nugget locket youwear there. "

For a moment Bill Gregg hated the other with his eyes, and then hesubmitted with a sheepish grin, took off the locket, which was made ofone big nugget rudely beaten into shape, and opened it for the benefitof Ronicky Doone. It showed the latter not a beautiful face, but apretty one with a touch of honesty and pride that made her charming. 

"Well, as soon as I got that picture, " said Bill Gregg, as he tookback the locket, "I sure got excited. Looked to me like that girl wasmade for me. A lot finer than I could ever be, you see, but simple; nofancy frills, no raving beauty, maybe, but darned easy to look at. 

"First thing I done I went in and got a copy of my face made andrushed it right back at her and then--" He stopped dolefully. "Whatd'you think, Ronicky?"

"I dunno, " said Ronicky; "what happened then?"

"Nothing, not a thing. Not a word came back from her to answer thatletter I'd sent along. "

"Maybe you didn't look rich enough to suit her, Bill. "

"I thought that, and I thought it was my ugly face that might of madeher change her mind. I thought of pretty near everything else that wasbad about me and that she might of read in my face. Sure made me sickfor a long time. Somebody else was correcting my lessons, and thatmade me sicker than ever. 

"So I sat down and wrote a letter to the head of the school and toldhim I'd like to get the address of that first girl. You see, I didn'teven know her name. But I didn't get no answer. "

Ronicky groaned. "It don't look like the best detective in the worldcould help you to find a girl when you don't know her name. " He addedgently: "But maybe she don't want you to find her?"

"I thought that for a long time. Then, a while back, I got a letterfrom San Francisco, saying that she was coming on a train throughthese parts and could I be in Stillwater because the train stoppedthere a couple of minutes. Most like she thought Stillwater was justsort of across the street from me. Matter of fact, I jumped on a hoss, and it took me three days of breaking my neck to get near Stillwaterand then--" He stopped and cast a gloomy look on his companion. 

"I know, " said Ronicky. "Then I come and spoiled the whole party. Suremakes me sick to think about it. "

"And now she's plumb gone, " muttered Bill Gregg. "I thought maybe thereason I didn't have her correcting my lessons any more was becauseshe'd had to leave the schools and go West. So, right after I got thisdrilling through the leg, you remember, I wrote a letter?"

"Sure. "

"It was to her at the schools, but I didn't get no answer. I guess shedidn't go back there after all. She's plumb gone, Ronicky. "

The other was silent for a moment. "How much would you give to findher?" he asked suddenly. 

"Half my life, " said Bill Gregg solemnly. 

"Then, " said Ronicky, "we'll make a try at it. I got an idea how wecan start on the trail. I'm going to go with you, partner. I've messedup considerable, this little game of yours; now I'm going to do whatI can to straighten it out. Sometimes two are better than one. AnywayI'm going to stick with you till you've found her or lost her forgood. You see?"

Bill Gregg sighed. "You're pretty straight, Ronicky, " he said, "butwhat good does it do for two gents to look for a needle in a haystack?How could we start to hit the trail?"

"This way. We know the train that she took. Maybe we could find thePullman conductor that was on it, and he might remember her. They gotgood memories, some of those gents. We'll start to find him, which hadought to be pretty easy. "

"Ronicky, I'd never of thought of that in a million years!"

"It ain't thinking that we want now, it's acting. When can you startwith me?"

"I'll be fit tomorrow. "

"Then tomorrow we start. "

Chapter Five

_Macklin's Library_

Robert Macklin, Pullman conductor, had risen to that eminent positionso early in life that the glamour of it had not yet passed away. Hewas large enough to have passed for a champion wrestler or a burlypugilist, and he was small enough to glory in the smallest details ofhis work. Having at the age of thirty, through a great deal of luckand a touch of accident, secured his place, he possessed, at least, sufficient dignity to fill it. 

He was one of those rare men who carry their dignity with them pastthe doors of their homes. Robert Macklin's home, during the shortintervals when he was off the trains, was in a tiny apartment. It wasreally one not overly large room, with a little alcove adjoining; butRobert Macklin had seized the opportunity to hang a curtain acrossthe alcove, and, since it was large enough to contain a chair and abookshelf, he referred to it always as his "library. "

He was this morning seated in his library, with his feet protrudingthrough the curtains and resting on the foot of his bed, when thedoorbell rang. He surveyed himself in his mirror before he answeredit. Having decided that, in his long dressing gown, he was imposingenough, he advanced to the door and slowly opened it. 

He saw before him two sun-darkened men whose soft gray hats proclaimedthat they were newly come out of the West. The one was a fellow whoseface had been made stern by hard work and few pleasures in life. Theother was one who, apparently, had never worked at all. There wassomething about him that impressed Robert Macklin. He might be a youngWestern millionaire, for instance. Aside from his hat he was dressedwith elaborate care. He wore gray spats, and his clothes wereobviously well tailored, and his necktie was done in a bow. On thewhole he was a very cool, comfortable looking chap. The handkerchief, which protruded from his breast pocket and showed an edging of red, was a trifle noisy; and the soft gray hat was hardly in keeping, but, on the whole, he was a dashing-looking chap. The bagging trousersand the blunt-toed shoes of his companion were to Robert Macklin adistinct shock. He centered all of his attention instantly on theyounger of his two visitors. 

"You're Mr. Macklin, I guess, " said the handsome man. 

"I am, " said Macklin, and, stepping back from his door, he invitedthem in with a sweeping gesture. 

There were only two chairs, but the younger of the strangersimmediately made himself comfortable on the bed. 

"My name's Doone, " he said, "and this is Mr. William Gregg. We thinkthat you have some information which we can use. Mind if we fire a fewquestions?"

"Certainly not, " said Robert Macklin. At the same time he began to armhimself with caution. One could never tell. 

"Matter of fact, " went on Ronicky smoothly, lighting a tailor-madecigarette, while his companion rolled one of his own making, "we arelooking for a lady who was on one of your trains. We think you maypossibly remember her. Here's the picture. "

And, as he passed the snapshot to the Pullman conductor, he went onwith the details of the date and the number of the train. 

Robert Macklin in the meantime studied the picture carefully. He had akeen eye for faces, but when it came to pretty faces his memory was averitable lion. He had talked a few moments with this very girl, andshe had smiled at him. The memory made Robert Macklin's lips twitchjust a trifle, and Ronicky Doone saw it. 

Presently the dignitary returned the picture and raised his head fromthought. "It is vaguely behind my mind, something about this lady, " hesaid. "But I'm sorry to say, gentlemen, I really don't know you and--"

"Why, don't you know us!" broke in Bill Gregg. "Ain't my partner herejust introduced us?"

"Exactly, " said Robert Macklin. And his opinion of the two sank a fullhundred points. Such grammar proclaimed a ruffian. 

"You don't get his drift, " Ronicky was explaining to his companion. "Iintroduced us, but he doesn't know who I am. We should have broughtalong a letter of introduction. " He turned to Macklin. "I am mightysorry I didn't get one, " he said. 

It came to Macklin for the fraction of a second that he was beingmocked, but he instantly dismissed the foolish thought. Even the roughfellows must be able to recognize a man when they saw one. 

"The point is, " went on Ronicky gently, "that my friend is very eagerfor important reasons to see this lady, to find her. And he doesn'teven know her name. " Here his careful grammar gave out with a crash. "You can't beat a deal like that, eh, Macklin? If you can rememberanything about her, her name first, then, where she was bound, who waswith her, how tall she is, the color of her eyes, we'd be glad to knowanything you know. What can you do for us?"

Macklin cleared his throat thoughtfully. "Gentlemen, " he said gravely, "if I knew the purpose for which you are seeking the lady I--"

"The purpose ain't to kidnap her, if that's your drift, " said Ronicky. "We ain't going to treat her wrong, partner. Out in our part ofthe land they don't do it. Just shake up your thoughts and see ifsomething about that girl doesn't pop right into your head. "

Robert Macklin smiled and carefully shook his head. "It seems to beimpossible for me to remember a thing, " he asserted. 

"Not even the color of her eyes?" asked Ronicky, as he grinned. Hewent on more gravely: "I'm pretty dead sure that you do remembersomething about her. "

There was just the shade of a threat in the voice of this slenderyoungster, and Robert Macklin had been an amateur pugilist of muchbrawn and a good deal of boxing skill. He cast a wary eye on Ronicky;one punch would settle that fellow. The man Gregg might be a hardernut to crack, but it would not take long to finish them both. RobertMacklin thrust his shoulders forward. 

"Friends, " he said gruffly, "I don't have much time off. This is myday for rest. I have to say good-by. "

Ronicky Doone stood up with a yawn. "I thought so, " he said to hiscompanion. "Mind the door, Gregg, and see that nobody steps in andbusts up my little party. "

"What are you going to do?"

"Going to argue with this gent in a way he'll understand a pile betterthan the chatter we've been making so far. " He stepped a long lightpace forward. "Macklin, you know what we want to find out. Will youtalk?"

A cloud of red gathered before the eyes of Macklin. It was impossiblethat he must believe his ears, and yet the words still rang there. 

"Why, curse your little rat-face!" burst out Robert Macklin, and, stepping in, he leaned forward with a perfect straight left. 

Certainly his long vacation from boxing had not ruined his eye orstiffened his muscles. With delight he felt all the big sinews abouthis shoulders come into play. Straight and true the big fist droveinto the face of the smaller man, but Robert Macklin found that he hadpunched a hole in thin air. It was as if the very wind of the blow hadbrushed the head of Ronicky Doone to one side, and at the same time heseemed to sway and stagger forward. 

A hard lean fist struck Robert Macklin's body. As he gasped anddoubled up, clubbing his right fist to land the blow behind the earof Ronicky Doone, the latter bent back, stepped in and, rising on thetoes of both feet, whipped a perfect uppercut that, in ring parlance, rang the bell. 

The result was that Robert Macklin, his mouth agape and his eyes dull, stood wobbling slowly from side to side. 

"Here!" called Ronicky to his companion at the door. "Grab him on oneside, and I'll take the other. He's out on his feet. Get him to thatchair. " With Gregg's assistance he dragged the bulk of the man there. Macklin was still stunned. 

Presently the dull eyes cleared and filled immediately with horror. Big Robert Macklin sank limply back in the chair. 

"I've no money, " he said. "I swear I haven't a cent in the place. It'sin the bank, but if a check will--"

"We don't want your money this trip, " said Ronicky. "We want talk, Macklin. A lot of talk and a lot of true talk. Understand? It's aboutthat girl. I saw you grin when you saw the picture; you remember herwell enough. Now start talking, and remember this, if you lie, I'llcome back here and find out and use this on you. "

The eyes of Robert Macklin started from his head, as his gazeconcentrated on the black muzzle of the gun. He moistened his whitelips and managed to gasp: "Everything I know, of course. Ill tell youeverything, word for word. She--she--her name I mean--"

"You're doing fine, " said Ronicky. "Keep it up, and you keep away, Bill. When you come at him with that hungry look he thinks you'regoing to eat him up. Fire away, Macklin. "

"What first?"

"What's she look like?"

"Soft brown hair, blue eyes, her mouth--"

"Is a little big. That's all right. You don't have to be polite andlie. We want the truth. How big is she?"

"About five feet and five inches, must weigh around a hundred andthirty pounds. "

"You sure are an expert on the ladies, Macklin, and I'll bet youdidn't miss her name?"

"Her name?"

"Don't tell me you missed out on that!"

"No. It was--Just a minute!"

"Take your time. "

"Caroline. "

"Take your time now, Macklin, you're doing fine. Don't get confused. Get the last name right. It's the most important to us. "

"I have it, I'm sure. The whole name is Caroline Smith. "

There was a groan from Ronicky Doone and another from Bill Gregg. 

"That's a fine name to use for trailing a person. Did she say anythingmore, anything about where she expected to be living in New York?"

"I don't remember any more, " said Macklin sullenly, for the spot whereRonicky's fist landed on his jaw was beginning to ache. "I didn't sitdown and have any chats with her. She just spoke to me once in a whilewhen I did something for her. I suppose you fellows have some crookedwork on hand for her?"

"We're bringing her good news, " said Ronicky calmly. "Now see if youcan't remember where she said she lived in New York. " And he gaveadded point to his question by pressing the muzzle of the revolvera little closer to the throat of the Pullman conductor. The latterblinked and swallowed hard. 

"The only thing I remember her saying was that she could see the EastRiver from her window, I think. "

"And that's all you know?"

"Yes, not a thing more about her to save my life. "

"Maybe what you know has saved it, " said Ronicky darkly. 

His victim eyed him with sullen malevolence. "Maybe there'll be a newtrick or two in this game before it's finished. I'll never forget you, Doone, and you, Gregg. "

"You haven't a thing in the world on us, " replied Ronicky. 

"I have the fact that you carry concealed weapons. "

"Only this time. "

"Always! Fellows like you are as lonesome without a gun as they arewithout a skin. "

Ronicky turned at the door and laughed back at the gloomy face, andthen they were gone down the steps and into the street. 

Chapter Six

_The New York Trail_

On the train to New York that night they carefully summed up theirprospects and what they had gained. 

"We started at pretty near nothing, " said Ronicky. He was aprofessional optimist. "We had a picture of a girl, and we knew shewas on a certain train bound East, three or four weeks ago. That's allwe knew. Now we know her name is Caroline Smith, and that she liveswhere she can see the East River out of her back window. I guess thatnarrows it down pretty close, doesn't it, Bill?"

"Close?" asked Bill. "Close, did you say?" "Well, we know the trail, "said Ronicky cheerily. "All we've got to do is to locate the shackthat stands beside that trail. For old mountain men like us that oughtto be nothing. What sort of a stream is this East River, though?"

Bill Gregg looked at his companion in disgust. He had become soused to regarding Doone as entirely infallible that it amazed anddisheartened him to find that there was one topic so large about whichRonicky knew nothing. Perhaps the whole base for the good cheer ofRonicky was his ignorance of everything except the mountain desert. 

"A river's a river, " went on Ronicky blandly. "And it's got a townbeside it, and in the town there's a house that looks over the water. Why, Bill, she's as good as found!"

"New York runs about a dozen miles along the shore of that river, "groaned Bill Gregg. 

"A dozen miles!" gasped Ronicky. He turned in his seat and stared athis companion. "Bill, you sure are making a man-sized joke. Thereain't that much city in the world. A dozen miles of houses, one rightnext to the other?"

"Yep, and one on top of the other. And that ain't all. Start about thecenter of that town and swing a twenty-mile line around it, and theend of the line will be passing through houses most of the way. "

Ronicky Doone glared at him in positive alarm. "Well, " he said, "that's different. "

"It sure is. I guess we've come on a wild-goose chase, Ronicky, hunting for a girl named Smith that lives on the bank of the EastRiver!" He laughed bitterly. 

"How come you know so much about New York?" asked Ronicky, eager toturn the subject of conversation until he could think of something tocheer his friend. 

"Books, " said Bill Gregg. 

After that there was a long lull in the conversation. That nightneither of them slept long, for every rattle and sway of the train wastelling them that they were rocking along toward an impossible task. Even the cheer of Ronicky had broken down the next morning, and, though breakfast in the diner restored some of his confidence, he wasnot the man of the day before. 

"Bill, " he confided, on the way back to their seats from the diner, "there must be something wrong with me. What is it?"

"I dunno, " said Bill. "Why?"

"People been looking at me. "

"Ain't they got a right to do that?"

"Sure they have, in a way. But, when they don't seem to see you whenyou see them, and when they begin looking at you out of the cornerof their eyes the minute you turn away, why then it seems to me thatthey're laughing at you, Bill. "

"What they got to laugh about? I'd punch a gent in the face thatlaughed at me!"

But Ronicky fell into a philosophical brooding. "It can't be done, Bill. You can punch a gent for cussing you, or stepping on your foot, or crowding you, or sneering at you, or talking behind your back, orfor a thousand things. But back here in a crowd you can't fight a gentfor laughing at you. Laughing is outside the law most anywheres, Bill. It's the one thing you can't answer back except with more laughing. Even a dog gets sort of sick inside when you laugh at him, and a manis a pile worse. He wants to kill the gent that's laughing, and hewants to kill himself for being laughed at. Well, Bill, that's a gooddeal stronger than the way they been laughing at me, but theydone enough to make me think a bit. They been looking at threethings--these here spats, the red rim of my handkerchief sticking outof my pocket, and that soft gray hat, when I got it on. "

"Derned if I see anything wrong with your outfit. Didn't they tell youthat that was the style back East, to have spats like that on?"

"Sure, " said Ronicky, "but maybe they didn't know, or maybe they gowith some, but not with me. Maybe I'm kind of too brown and outdoorslooking to fit with spats and handkerchiefs like this. "

"Ronicky, " said Bill Gregg in admiration, "maybe you ain't read apile, but you figure things out just like a book. "

Their conversation was cut short by the appearance of a drift ofhouses, and then more and more. From the elevated line on which theyran presently they could look down on block after block of roofspacked close together, or big business structures, as they reached theuptown business sections, and finally Ronicky gasped, as they plungedinto utter darkness that roared past the window. 

"We go underground to the station, " Bill Gregg explained. He wasa little startled himself, but his reading had fortified him to acertain extent. 

"But is there still some more of New York?" asked Ronicky humbly. 

"More? We ain't seen a corner of it!" Bill's superior information madehim swell like a frog in the sun. "This is kinder near One HundredthStreet where we dived down. New York keeps right on to First Street, and then it has a lot more streets below that. But that's just theIsland of Manhattan. All around there's a lot more. Manhattan ismostly where they work. They live other places. "

It was not very long before the train slowed down to make GrandCentral Station. On the long platform Ronicky surrendered his suitcase to the first porter. Bill Gregg was much alarmed. "What'd you dothat for?" he asked, securing a stronger hold on his own valise andbrushing aside two or three red caps. 

"He asked me for it, " explained Ronicky. "I wasn't none too set ongiving it to him to carry, but I hated to hurt his feelings. Besides, they're all done up in uniforms. Maybe this is their job. "

"But suppose that feller got away out of sight, what would you do?Your brand-new pair of Colts is lying away in it!"

"He won't get out of sight none, " Ronicky assured his friend grimly. "I got another Colt with me, and, no matter how fast he runs, aforty-five slug can run a pile faster. But come on, Bill. The word inthis town seems to be to keep right on moving. "

They passed under an immense, brightly lighted vault and then wriggledthrough the crowds in pursuit of the astonishingly agile porter. Sothey came out of the big station to Forty-second Street, where theyfound themselves confronted by a taxi driver and the question:"Where?"

"I dunno, " said Ronicky to Bill. "Your reading tell you anything aboutthe hotels in this here town?"

"Not a thing, " said Bill, "because I never figured that I'd be foolenough to come this far away from my home diggings. But here I am, andwe don't know nothing. "

"Listen, partner, " said Ronicky to the driver. "Where's afair-to-medium place to stop at?"

The taxi driver swallowed a smile that left a twinkle about his eyeswhich nothing could remove. "What kind of a place? Anywhere from fiftycents to fifty bucks a night. "

"Fifty dollars!" exclaimed Bill Gregg. "Can you lay over that, Ronicky? Our wad won't last a week. "

"Say, pal, " said the taxi driver, becoming suddenly friendly, "I canfix you up. I know a neat little joint where you'll be as snug as youwant. They'll stick you about one-fifty per, but you can't beat thatprice in this town and keep clean. "

"Take us there, " said Bill Gregg, and they climbed into the machine. 

The taxi turned around, shot down Park Avenue, darted aside into thedarker streets to the east of the district and came suddenly to ahalt. 

"Did you foller that trail?" asked Bill Gregg in a chuckling whisper. 

"Sure! Twice to the left, then to the right, and then to the leftagain. I know the number of blocks, too. Ain't no reason for gettingrattled just because a joint is strange to us. New York may betolerable big, but it's got men in it just like we are, and maybe alot worse kinds. "

As they got out of the little car they saw that the taxi driver hadpreceded them, carrying their suit cases. They followed up a steeppitch of stairs to the first floor of the hotel, where the landing hadbeen widened to form a little office. 

"Hello, Bert, " said their driver. "I picked up these gentlemen atGrand Central. They ain't wise to the town, so I put 'em next to you. Fix 'em up here?"

"Sure, " said Bert, lifting a huge bulk of manhood from behind thedesk. He placed his fat hands on the top of it and observed his guestswith a smile. "Ill make you right to home here, friends. Thank you, Joe!"

Joe grinned, nodded and, receiving his money from Bill Gregg, departeddown the stairs, humming. Their host, in the meantime, had picked uptheir suit cases and led the way down a hall dimly lighted by twoflickering gas jets. Finally he reached a door and led them into aroom where the gas had to be lighted. It showed them a cheerlessapartment in spite of the red of wall paper and carpet. 

"Only three bucks, " said the proprietor with the air of one bestowingcharity out of the fullness of his heart. "Bathroom only two doorsdown. I guess you can't beat this layout, gents?"

Bill Gregg glanced once about him and nodded. 

"You come up from the South, maybe?" asked the proprietor, lingeringat the door. 

"West, " said Bill Gregg curtly. 

"You don't say! Then you boys must be used to your toddy at night, eh?"

"It's a tolerable dry country out there, " said Ronicky withoutenthusiasm. 

"All the more reason you need some liquor to moisten it up. Wait tillI get you a bottle of rye I got handy. " And he disappeared in spite oftheir protests. 

"I ain't a drinking man, " said Gregg, "and I know you ain't, but it'ssure insulting to turn down a drink in these days!"

Ronicky nodded, and presently the host returned with two glasses, rattling against a tall bottle on a tray. 

"Say, when, " he said, filling the glasses and keeping on, in spite oftheir protests, until each glass was full. 

"I guess it looks pretty good to you to see the stuff again, " hesaid, stepping back and rubbing his hands like one warmed by theconsciousness of a good deed. "It ain't very plentiful around here. "

"Well, " said Gregg, swinging up his glass, "here's in your eye, Ronicky, and here's to you, sir!"

"Wait, " replied Ronicky Doone. "Hold on a minute, Bill. Looks to melike you ain't drinking, " he said to the proprietor. 

The fat man waved the suggestion aside. "Never touch it, " he assuredthem. "Used to indulge a little in light wines and beers when thecountry was wet, but when it went dry the stuff didn't mean enough tome to make it worth while dodging the law. I just manage to keep alittle of it around for old friends and men out of a dry country. "

"But we got a funny habit out in our country. We can't no ways drinkunless the gent that's setting them out takes something himself. Itain't done that way in our part of the land, " said Ronicky. 

"It ain't?"

"Never!"

"Come, come! That's a good joke. But, even if I can't be with you, boys, drink hearty. "

Ronicky Doone shook his head. "No joke at all, " he said firmly. "Matter of politeness that a lot of gents are terrible hard set on outwhere we come from. "

"Why, Ronicky, " protested Bill Gregg, "ain't you making it a littlestrong? For my part I've drunk twenty times without having the gentthat set 'em up touch a thing. I reckon I can do it again. Here'show!"

"Wait!" declared Ronicky Doone. And there was a little jarring ringin his voice that arrested the hand of Bill Gregg in the very act ofraising the glass. 

Ronicky crossed the room quickly, took a glass from the washstand and, returning to the center table, poured a liberal drink of the whiskyinto it. 

"I dunno about my friend, " he went on, almost sternly, to thebewildered hotel keeper. "I dunno about him, but some gents feel sostrong about not drinking alone that they'd sooner fight. Well, sir, I'm one of that kind. So I say, there's your liquor. Get rid of it!"

The fat man reached the center table and propped himself against it, gasping. His whole big body seemed to be wilting, as though in aterrific heat. "I dunno!" he murmured. "I dunno what's got into youfellers. I tell you, I never drink. "

"You lie, you fat fool!" retorted Ronicky. "Didn't I smell yourbreath?"

Bill Gregg dropped his own glass on the table and hurriedly came toconfront his host by the side of Ronicky. 

"Breath?" asked the fat man hurriedly, still gasping more and moreheavily for air. "I--I may have taken a small tonic after dinner. Infact, think I did. That's all. Nothing more, I assure you. I--I haveto be a sober man in my work. "

"You got to make an exception this evening, " said Ronicky, morefiercely than ever. "I ought to make you drink all three drinks forbeing so slow about drinking one!"

"Three drinks!" exclaimed the fat man, trembling violently. "It--itwould kill me!"

"I think it would, " said Ronicky. "I swear I think it would. And maybeeven one will be a sort of a shock, eh?"

He commanded suddenly: "Drink! Drink that glass and clean out the lastdrop of it, or we'll tie you and pry your mouth open and pour thewhole bottle down your throat. You understand?"

A feeble moan came from the throat of the hotel keeper. He castone frantic glance toward the door and a still more frantic appealcentered on Ronicky Doone, but the face of the latter was as cold asstone. 

"Then take your own glasses, boys, " he said, striving to smile, as hepicked up his own drink. 

"You drink first, and you drink alone, " declared Ronicky. "Now!"

The movement of his hand was as ominous as if he had whipped out arevolver. The fat man tossed off the glass of whisky and then stoodwith a pudgy hand pressed against his breast and the upward glance ofone who awaits a calamity. Under the astonished eyes of Bill Gregg heturned pale, a sickly greenish pallor. His eyes rolled, and his handon the table shook, and the arm that supported him sagged. 

"Open the window, " he said. "The air--there ain't no air. I'mchoking--and--"

"Get him some water, " cried Bill Gregg, "while I open the window. "

"Stay where you are, Bill. "

"But he looks like he's dying!"

"Then he's killed himself. "

"Gents, " began the fat man feebly and made a short step toward them. The step was uncompleted. In the middle of it he wavered, put out hisarms and slumped upon his side on the floor. 

Bill Gregg cried out softly in astonishment and horror, but RonickyDoone knelt calmly beside the fallen bulk and felt the beating of hisheart. 

"He ain't dead, " he said quietly, "but he'll be tolerably sick for awhile. Now come along with me. "

"But what's all this mean?" asked Bill Gregg in a whisper, as hepicked up his suit case and hurried after Ronicky. 

"Doped booze, " said Ronicky curtly. 

They hurried down the stairs and came out onto the dark street. ThereRonicky Doone dropped his suit case and dived into a dark nook besidethe entrance. There was a brief struggle. He came out again, pushinga skulking figure before him, with the man's arm twisted behind hisback. 

"Take off this gent's hat, will you?" asked Ronicky. 

Bill Gregg obeyed, too dumb with astonishment to think. "It's the taxidriver!" he exclaimed. 

"I thought so!" muttered Ronicky. "The skunk came back here to waittill we were fixed right now. What'll we do with him?"

"I begin to see what's come off" said Bill Gregg, frowning into thewhite, scowling face of the taxi driver. The man was like a rat, but, in spite of his fear, he did not make a sound. 

"Over there!" said Bill Gregg, nodding toward a flight of cellarsteps. 

They caught the man between them, rushed him to the steps and flunghim headlong down. There was a crashing fall, groans and then silence. 

"He'll have a broken bone or two, maybe, " said Ronicky, peering calmlyinto the darkness, "but he'll live to trap somebody else, curse him!"And, picking up their suit cases again, they started to retrace theirsteps. 

Chapter Seven

_The First Clue_

They did not refer to the incidents of that odd reception in New Yorkuntil they had located a small hotel for themselves, not three blocksaway. It was no cheaper, but they found a pleasant room, clean andwith electric lights. It was not until they had bathed and werepropped up in their beds for a good-night smoke, which cow-puncherslove, that Bill Gregg asked: "And what gave you the tip, Ronicky?"

"I dunno. In my business you got to learn to watch faces, Bill. Suppose you sit in at a five-handed game of poker. One gent sayseverything with his face, while he's picking up his cards. Anothergent don't say a thing, but he shows what he's got by the way he movesin his chair, or the way he opens and shuts his hands. When you saidsomething about our wad I seen the taxi driver blink. Right after thathe got terrible friendly and said he could steer us to a friend of histhat could put us up for the night pretty comfortable. Well, it wasn'thard to put two and two together. Not that I figured anything out. Just was walking on my toes, ready to jump in any direction. "

As for Bill Gregg, he brooded for a time on what he had heard, then heshook his head and sighed. "I'd be a mighty helpless kid in this heretown if I didn't have you along, Ronicky, " he said. 

"Nope, " insisted Ronicky. "Long as you use another gent for a sort ofguide you feel kind of helpless. But, when you step off for yourself, everything is pretty easy. You just were waiting for me to take thelead, or you'd have done just as much by yourself. "

Again Bill Gregg sighed, as he shook his head. "If this is what NewYork is like, " he said, "we're in for a pretty bad time. And this iswhat they call a civilized town? Great guns, they need martial law anda thousand policemen to the block to keep a gent's life and pocketbooksafe in this town! First gent we meet tries to bump us off or get ourwad. Don't look like we're going to have much luck, Ronicky. "

"We saved our hides, I guess. "

"That's about all. "

"And we learned something. "

"Sure. "

"Then I figure it was a pretty good night. 

"Another thing, Bill. I got an idea from that taxi gent. I figure thatwhole gang of taxi men are pretty sharp in the eye. What I mean isthat we can tramp up and down along this here East River, and nowand then we'll talk to some taxi men that do most of their work fromstands in them parts of the town. Maybe we can get on her trail thatway. Anyways, it's an opening. "

"Maybe, " said Bill Gregg dubiously. He reached under his pillow. "ButI'm sure going to sleep with a gun under my head in this town!" Withthis remark he settled himself for repose and presently was snoringloudly. 

Ronicky presented a brave face to the morning and at once startedwith Bill Gregg to tour along the East River. That first day Ronickyinsisted that they simply walk over the whole ground, so as to becomefairly familiar with the scale of their task. They managed to make thetrip before night and returned to the hotel, footsore from the hard, hot pavements. There was something unkindly and ungenerous in thosepavements, it seemed to Ronicky. He was discovering to his greatamazement that the loneliness of the mountain desert is nothing at allcompared to the loneliness of the Manhattan crowd. 

Two very gloomy and silent cow-punchers ate their dinner that nightand went to bed early. But in the morning they began the actual workof their campaign. It was an arduous labor. It meant interviewing inevery district one or two storekeepers, and asking the mail carriersfor "Caroline Smith, " and showing the picture to taxi drivers. Theselatter were the men, insisted Ronicky, who would eventually bring themto Caroline Smith. "Because, if they've ever drove a girl as pretty asthat, they'll remember for quite a while. "

"But half of these gents ain't going to talk to us, even if theyknow, " Bill Gregg protested, after he had been gruffly refused ananswer a dozen times in the first morning. 

"Some of 'em won't talk, " admitted Ronicky, "but that's probablybecause they don't know. Take 'em by and large, most gents like totell everything they know, and then some!"

As a matter of fact they met with rather more help than they wanted. In spite of all their efforts to appear casual there was somethingtoo romantic in this search for a girl to remain entirely unnoticed. People whom they asked became excited and offered them a thousandsuggestions. Everybody, it seemed, had, somewhere, somehow, heard of aCaroline Smith living in his own block, and every one remembered dimlyhaving passed a girl on the street who looked exactly like CarolineSmith. But they went resolutely on, running down a thousand falseclues and finding at the end of each something more ludicrous thanwhat had gone before. Maiden ladies with many teeth and big glassesthey found; and they discovered, at the ends of the trails on whichthey were advised to go, young women and old, ugly girls and prettyones, but never any one who in the slightest degree resembled CarolineSmith. 

In the meantime they were working back and forth, in their progressalong the East River, from the slums to the better residencedistricts. They bought newspapers at little stationery stores andworked up chance conversations with the clerks, particularly girlclerks, whenever they could find them. 

"Because women have the eye for faces, " Ronicky would say, "and, if agirl like Caroline Smith came into the shop, she'd be remembered for awhile. "

But for ten days they labored without a ghost of a success. Thenthey noticed the taxi stands along the East Side and worked them ascarefully as they could, and it was on the evening of the eleventh dayof the search that they reached the first clue. 

They had found a taxi drawn up before a saloon, converted into aneating place, and when they went inside they found the driver alone inthe restaurant. They worked up the conversation, as they had done ahundred times before. Gregg produced the picture and began showing itto Ronicky. 

"Maybe the lady's around here, " said Ronicky, "but I'm new in thispart of town. " He took the picture and turned to the taxi driver. "Maybe you've been around this part of town and know the folks here. Ever see this girl around?" And he passed the picture to the other. 

The taxi driver bowed his head over it in a close scrutiny. When helooked up his face was a blank. 

"I don't know. Lemme see. I think I seen a girl like her the otherday, waiting for the traffic to pass at Seventy-second and Broadway. Yep, she sure was a ringer for this picture. " He passed the pictureback, and a moment later he finished his meal, paid his check and wentsauntering through the door. 

"Quick!" said Ronicky, the moment the chauffeur had disappeared. "Paythe check and come along. That fellow knows something. "

Bill Gregg, greatly excited, obeyed, and they hurried to the door ofthe place. They were in time to see the taxicab lurch away from thecurb and go humming down the street, while the driver leaned out tothe side and looked back. 

"He didn't see us, " said Ronicky confidently. 

"But what did he leave for?"

"He's gone to tell somebody, somewhere, that we're looking forCaroline Smith. Come on!" He stepped out to the curb and stopped apassing taxi. "Follow that machine and keep a block away from it, " heordered. 

"Bootlegger?" asked the taxi driver cheerily. 

"I don't know, but just drift along behind him till he stops. Can youdo that?"

"Watch me!"

And, with Ronicky and Bill Gregg installed in his machine, he startedsmoothly on the trail. 

Straight down the cross street, under the roaring elevated tracks ofSecond and Third Avenues, they passed, and on First Avenue they turnedand darted sharply south for a round dozen blocks, then went due eastand came, to a halt after a brief run. 

"He's stopped in Beekman Place, " said the driver, jerking open thedoor. "If I run in there he'll see me. "

Ronicky stepped from the machine, paid him and dismissed him witha word of praise for his fine trailing. Then he stepped around thecorner. 

What he saw was a little street closed at both ends and only two orthree blocks long. It had the serene, detached air of a village athousand miles from any great city, with its grave rows of homelyhouses standing solemnly face to face. Well to the left, theFifty-ninth Street Bridge swung its great arch across the river, andit led, Ronicky knew, to Long Island City beyond, but here everythingwas cupped in the village quiet. 

The machine which they had been pursuing was drawn up on theright-hand side of the street, looking south, and, even as Ronickyglanced around the corner, he saw the driver leave his seat, dart up aflight of steps and ring the bell. 

Ronicky could not see who opened the door, but, after a moment oftalk, the chauffeur from the car they had pursued was allowed toenter. And, as he stepped across the threshold, he drew off his capwith a touch of reverence which seemed totally out of keeping with hischaracter as Ronicky had seen it. 

"Bill, " he said to Gregg, "we've got something. You seen him go upthose steps to that house?"

"Sure. "

Bill Gregg's eyes were flashing with the excitement. "That house hassomebody in it who knows Caroline Smith, and that somebody is excitedbecause we're hunting for her, " said Bill. "Maybe it holds Carolineherself. Who can tell that? Let's go see. "

"Wait till that taxi driver goes. If he'd wanted us to know aboutCaroline he'd of told us. He doesn't want us to know and he'd maybetake it pretty much to heart if he knew we'd followed him. "

"What he thinks don't worry me none. I can tend to three like him. "

"Maybe, but you couldn't handle thirty, and coyotes like him hunt inpacks, always. The best fighting pair of coyotes that ever steppedwouldn't have no chance against a lofer wolf, but no lofer wolf couldstand off a dozen or so of the little devils. So keep clear of theselittle rat-faced gents, Bill. They hunt in crowds. "

Presently they saw the chauffeur coming down the steps. Even at thatdistance it could be seen that he was smiling broadly, and that he wasintensely pleased with himself and the rest of the world. 

Starting up his machine, he swung it around dexterously, as only NewYork taxi drivers can, and sped down the street by the way he hadcome, passing Gregg and Ronicky, who had flattened themselves againstthe fence to keep from being seen. They observed that, while hecontrolled the car with one hand, with the other he was examining thecontents of his wallet. 

"Money for him!" exclaimed Ronicky, as soon as the car was out ofsight around the corner. "This begins to look pretty thick, Bill. Because he goes and tells them that he's taken us off the trail theynot only thank him, but they pay him for it. And, by the face of him, as he went by, they pay him pretty high. Bill, it's easy to figurethat they don't want any friend near Caroline Smith, and most likethey don't even want us near that house. "

"I only want to go near once, " said Bill Gregg. "I just want to findout if the girl is there. "

"Go break in on 'em?"

"Break in! Ronicky, that's burglary!"

"Sure it is. "

"Ill just ask for Caroline Smith at the door. "

"Try it. "

The irony made Bill Gregg stop in the very act of leaving and glanceback. But he went on again resolutely and stamped up the steps to thefront door of the house. 

It was opened to him almost at once by a woman, for Bill's hat comeoff. For a moment he was explaining. Then there was a pause in hisgestures, as she made the reply. Finally he spoke again, but was cutshort by the loud banging of the door. 

Bill Gregg drew himself up rigidly and slowly replaced the hat on hishead. If a man had turned that trick on him, a . 45-caliber slug wouldhave gone crashing through the door in search of him to teach him aWesterner's opinion of such manners. 

Ronicky Doone could not help smiling to himself, as he saw Bill Greggstump stiffly down the stairs, limping a little on his wounded leg, and come back with a grave dignity to the starting point. He was stillcrimson to the roots of his hair. 

"Let's start, " he said. "If that happens again I'll be doing a coupleof murders in this here little town and getting myself hung. "

"What happened?"

"An old hag jerked open the door after I rang the bell. I asked hernice and polite if a lady named Caroline Smith was in the house? 'No, 'says she, 'and if she was, what's that to you?' I told her I'd come along ways to see Caroline. 'Then go a long ways back without seeingCaroline, ' says this withered old witch, and she banged the door rightin my face. Man, I'm still seeing red. Them words of the old womanwere whips, and every one of them sure took off the hide. I used tothink that old lady Moore in Martindale was a pretty nasty talker, butthis one laid over her a mile. But we're beat, Ronicky. You couldn'tget by that old woman with a thousand men. "

"Maybe not, " said Ronicky Doone, "but we're going to try. Did you lookacross the street and see a sign a while ago?"

"Which side?"

"Side right opposite Caroline's house. "

"Sure. 'Room To Rent. '"

"I thought so. Then that's our room. "

"Eh?"

"That's our room, partner, and right at the front window over thestreet one of us is going to keep watch day and night, till we makesure that Caroline Smith don't live in that house. Is that right?"

"That's a great idea!" He started away from the fence. 

"Wait!" Ronicky caught him by the shoulder and held him back. "We'llwait till night and then go and get that room. If Caroline is in thehouse yonder, and they know we're looking for her, it's easy that shewon't be allowed to come out the front of the house so long as we'reperched up at the window, waiting to see her. We'll come back tonightand start waiting. "

Chapter Eight

_Two Apparitions_

They found that the room in the house on Beekman Place, opposite thatwhich they felt covered their quarry, could be secured, and they wereshown to it by a quiet old gentlewoman, found a big double room thatran across the whole length of the house. From the back it looked downon the lights glimmering on the black East River and across to theflare of Brooklyn; to the left the whole arc of the Fifty-ninth StreetBridge was exposed. In front the windows overlooked Beekman Placeand were directly opposite, the front of the house to which the taxidriver had gone that afternoon. 

Here they took up the vigil. For four hours one of the two sat witheyes never moving from the street and the windows of the house acrossthe street; and then he left the post, and the other took it. 

It was vastly wearying work. Very few vehicles came into the light ofthe street lamp beneath them, and every person who dismounted from oneof them had to be scrutinized with painful diligence. 

Once a girl, young and slender and sprightly, stepped out of a taxi, about ten o'clock at night, and ran lightly up the steps of the house. Ronicky caught his friend by the shoulders and dragged him to thewindow. "There she is now!" he exclaimed. 

But the eye of the lover, even though the girl was in a dim light, could not he deceived. The moment he caught her profile, as she turnedin opening the door, Bill Gregg shook his head. "That's not the one. She's all different, a pile different, Ronicky. "

Ronicky sighed. "I thought we had her, " he said. "Go on back to sleep. I'll call you again if anything happens. "

But nothing more happened that night, though even in the dull, ghosthours of the early morning they did not relax their vigil. But all thenext day there was still no sign of Caroline Smith in the house acrossthe street; no face like hers ever appeared at the windows. Apparentlythe place was a harmless rooming house of fairly good quality. Not asign of Caroline Smith appeared even during the second day. By thistime the nerves of the two watchers were shattered by the constantstrain, and the monotonous view from the front window was beginning tomadden them. 

"It's proof that she ain't yonder, " said Bill Gregg. "Here's two daysgone, and not a sign of her yet. It sure means that she ain't in thathouse, unless she's sick in bed. " And he grew pale at the thought. 

"Partner, " said Ronicky Doone, "if they are trying to keep her awayfrom us they sure have the sense to keep her under cover for as longas two days. Ain't that right? It looks pretty bad for us, but I'mstaying here for one solid week, anyway. It's just about our lastchance, Bill. We've done our hunting pretty near as well as we could. If we don't land her this trip, I'm about ready to give up. "

Bill Gregg sadly agreed that this was their last chance and they mustplay it to the limit. One week was decided on as a fair test. If, atthe end of that time, Caroline Smith did not come out of the houseacross the street they could conclude that she did not stay there. Andthen there would be nothing for it but to take the first train backWest. 

The third day passed and the fourth, dreary, dreary days ofunfaltering vigilance on the part of the two watchers. And on thefifth morning even Ronicky Doone sat with his head in his hands atthe window, peering through the slit between the drawn curtains whichsheltered him from being observed at his spying. When he called outsoftly, the sound brought Gregg, with one long leap out of the chairwhere he was sleeping, to the window. There could be no shadow of adoubt about it. There stood Caroline Smith in the door of the house!

She closed the door behind her and, walking to the top of the steps, paused there and looked up and down the street. 

Bill Gregg groaned, snatched his hat and plunged through the door, andRonicky heard the brief thunder of his feet down the first flight ofstairs, then the heavy thumps, as he raced around the landing. He wasable to trace him down all the three flights of steps to the bottom. 

And so swift was that descent that, when the girl, idling down thesteps across the street, came onto the sidewalk, Bill Gregg rushed outfrom the other side and ran toward her. 

They made a strange picture as they came to a halt at the sameinstant, the girl shrinking back in apparent fear of the man, and BillGregg stopping by that same show of fear, as though by a blow in theface. There was such a contrast between the two figures that RonickyDoone might have laughed, had he not been shaking his head withsympathy for Bill Gregg. 

For never had the miner seemed so clumsily big and gaunt, never hadhis clothes seemed so unpressed and shapeless, while his soft grayhat, to which he still clung religiously, appeared hopelessly out ofplace in contrast with the slim prettiness of the girl. She wore ablack straw hat, turned back from her face, with a single big redflower at the side of it; her dress was a tailored gray tweed. Thesame distinction between their clothes was in their faces, the finelymodeled prettiness of her features and the big, careless chiseling ofthe features of Bill Gregg. 

Ronicky Doone did not wonder that, after her first fear, her gesturewas one of disdain and surprise. 

Bill Gregg had dragged the hat from his head, and the wind lifted hislong black hair and made it wild. He went a long, slow step closer toher, with both his hands outstretched. 

A strange scene for a street, and Ronicky Doone saw the girl flash aglance over her shoulder and back to the house from which she had justcome. Ronicky Doone followed that glance, and he saw, all hidden savethe profile of the face, a man standing at an opposite window andsmiling scornfully down at that picture in the street. 

What a face it was! Never in his life had Ronicky Doone seen a manwho, in one instant, filled him with such fear and hatred, suchloathing and such dread, such scorn and such terror. The nose washooked like the nose of a bird of prey; the eyes were long andslanting like those of an Oriental. The face was thin, almostfleshless, so that the bony jaw stood out like the jaw of adeath's-head. 

As for the girl, the sight of that onlooker seemed to fill her with anew terror. She shrank back from Bill Gregg until her shoulders werealmost pressed against the wall of the house. And Ronicky saw her headshake, as she denied Bill the right of advancing farther. Still hepleaded, and still she ordered him away. Finally Bill Gregg drewhimself up and bowed to her and turned on his heel. 

The girl hesitated a moment. It seemed to Ronicky, in spite of thefact that she had just driven Bill Gregg away, as if she were onthe verge of following him to bring him back. For she made a slightoutward gesture with one hand. 

If this were in her mind, however, it vanished instantly. She turnedwith a shudder and hurried away down the street. 

As for Bill Gregg he bore himself straight as a soldier and came backacross the pavement, but it was the erectness of a soldier who has metwith a crushing defeat and only preserves an outward resolution, whileall the spirit within is crushed. 

Ronicky Doone turned gloomily away from the window and listened to theprogress of Gregg up the stairs. What a contrast between the ascentand the descent! He had literally flown down. Now his heels clumpedout a slow and regular death march, as he came back to the room. 

When Gregg opened the door Ronicky Doone blinked and drew in a deepbreath at the sight of the poor fellow's face. Gregg had known beforethat he truly loved this girl whom he had never seen, but he had neverdreamed what the strength of that love was. Now, in the very moment ofseeing his dream of the girl turned into flesh and blood, he had losther, and there was something like death in the face of the big mineras he dropped his hat on the floor and sank into a chair. 

After that he did not move so much as a finger from the position intowhich he had fallen limply. His legs were twisted awkwardly, sprawlingacross the floor in front of him; one long arm dragged down toward thefloor, as if there was no strength in it to support the weight of thelabor-hardened hands; his chin was fallen against his breast. 

When Ronicky Doone crossed to him and laid a kind hand on his shoulderhe did not look up. "It's ended, " said Bill Gregg faintly. "Now wehit the back trail and forget all about this. " He added with a faintattempt at cynicism: "I've just wasted a pile of good money-makingtime from the mine, that's all. "

"H'm!" said Ronicky Doone. "Bill, look me in the eye and tell me, manto man, that you're a liar!" He added: "Can you ever be happy withouther, man?"

The cruelty of that speech made Gregg flush and look up sharply. Thiswas exactly what Ronicky Doone wanted. 

"I guess they ain't any use talking about that part of it, " said Gregghuskily. 

"Ain't there? That's where you and me don't agree! Why, Bill, look atthe way things have gone! You start out with a photograph of a girl. Now you've followed her, found her name, tracked her clear across thecontinent and know her street address, and you've given her a chanceto see your own face. Ain't that something done? After you've done allthat are you going to give up now? Not you, Bill! You're going to buckup and go ahead full steam. Eh?"

Bill Gregg smiled sourly. "D'you know what she said when I comerushing up and saying: 'I'm Bill Gregg!' D'you know what she said?"

"Well?"

"'Bill Gregg?' she says. 'I don't remember any such name!'

"That took the wind out of me. I only had enough left to say: 'Thegent that was writing those papers to the correspondence school to youfrom the West, the one you sent your picture to and--'

"'Sent my picture to!' she says and looks as if the ground had openedunder her feet. 'You're mad!' she says. And then she looks back overher shoulder as much as to wish she was safe back in her house!"

"D'you know why she looked back over her shoulder?"

"Just for the reason I told you. "

"No, Bill. There was a gent standing up there at a window watching herand how she acted. He's the gent that kept her from writing to you andsigning her name. He's the one who's kept her in that house. He's theone that knew we were here watching all the time, that sent out thegirl with exact orders how she should act if you was to come out andspeak to her when you seen her! Bill, what that girl told you didn'tcome out of her own head. It come out of the head of the gent acrossthe way. When you turned your back on her she looked like she'd runafter you and try to explain. But the fear of that fellow up in thewindow was too much for her, and she didn't dare. Bill, to get at thegirl you got to get that gent I seen grinning from the window. "

"Grinning?" asked Bill Gregg, grinding his teeth and starting from hischair. "Was the skunk laughing at me?"

"Sure! Every minute. "

Bill Gregg groaned. "I'll smash every bone in his ugly head. "

"Shake!" said Ronicky Doone. "That's the sort of talk I wanted tohear, and I'll help, Bill. Unless I'm away wrong, it'll take the bestthat you and me can do, working together, to put that gent down!"

Chapter Nine

_A Bold Venture_

But how to reach that man of the smile and the sneer, how, above all, to make sure that he was really the power controlling Caroline Smith, were problems which could not be solved in a moment. 

Bill Gregg contributed one helpful idea. "We've waited a week to seeher; now that we've seen her let's keep on waiting, " he said, andRonicky agreed. 

They resumed the vigil, but it had already been prolonged for such alength of time that it was impossible to keep it as strictly as it hadbeen observed before. Bill Gregg, outworn by the strain of the longwatching and the shock of the disappointment of that day, wentcompletely to pieces and in the early evening fell asleep. But RonickyDoone went out for a light dinner and came back after dark, refreshedand eager for action, only to find that Bill Gregg was incapable ofbeing roused. He slept like a dead man. 

Ronicky went to the window and sat alone. Few of the roomers were homein the house opposite. They were out for the evening, or for dinner, at least, and the face of the building was dark and cold, the lightfrom the street lamp glinting unevenly on the windowpanes. He had satthere staring at the old house so many hours in the past that it wasbeginning to be like a face to him, to be studied as one might studya human being. And the people it sheltered, the old hag who kept thedoor, the sneering man and Caroline Smith, were to the house like thethoughts behind a man's face, an inscrutable face. But, if one cannotpry behind the mask of the human, at least it is possible to enter ahouse and find--

At this point in his thoughts Ronicky Doone rose with a quickeningpulse. Suppose he, alone, entered that house tonight by stealth, likea burglar, and found what he could find?

He brushed the idea away. Instantly it returned to him. The danger ofthe thing, and danger there certainly would be in the vicinity ofhim of the sardonic profile, appealed to him more and more keenly. Moreover, he must go alone. The heavy-footed Gregg would be a poorhelpmate on such an errand of stealth. 

Ronicky turned away from the window, turned back to it and looked oncemore at the tall front of the building opposite; then he started toget ready for the expedition. 

The preparations were simple. He put on a pair of low shoes, verylight and with rubber heels. In them he could move with the softnessand the speed of a cat. Next he dressed in a dark-gray suit, knowingthat this is the color hardest to see at night. His old felt hat hehad discarded long before in favor of the prevailing style of theaverage New Yorker. For this night expedition he put on a cap whichdrew easily over his ears and had a long visor, shadowing the upperpart of his face. Since it might be necessary to remain as invisibleas possible, he obscured the last bit of white that showed in hiscostume, with a black neck scarf. 

Then he looked in the glass. A lean face looked back at him, the eyesobscured under the cap, a stern, resolute face, with a distinct threatabout it. He hardly recognized himself in the face in the glass. 

He went to his suit case and brought out his favorite revolver. It wasa long and ponderous weapon to be hidden beneath his clothes, but toRonicky Doone that gun was a friend well tried in many an adventure. His fingers went deftly over it. It literally fell to pieces at histouch, and he examined it cautiously and carefully in all its parts, looking to the cartridges before he assembled the weapon again. For, if it became necessary to shoot this evening, it would be necessary toshoot to kill. 

He then strolled down the street, passing the house opposite, with aclose scrutiny. A narrow, paved sidewalk ran between it and the houseon its right, and all the windows opening on this small court weredark. Moreover, the house which was his quarry was set back severalfeet from the street, an indentation which would completely hide himfrom anyone who looked from the street. Ronicky made up his mind atonce. He went to the end of the block, crossed over and, turning backon the far side of the street, slipped into the opening between thehouses. 

Instantly he was in a dense darkness. For five stories above him thetwo buildings towered, shutting out the starlight. Looking straight uphe found only a faint reflection of the glow of the city lights in thesky. 

At last he found a cellar window. He tried it and found it locked, buta little maneuvering with his knife enabled him to turn the catch atthe top of the lower sash. Then he raised it slowly and leaned intothe blackness. Something incredibly soft, tenuous, clinging, pressedat once against his face. He started back with a shudder and brushedaway the remnants of a big spider web. 

Then he leaned in again. It was an intense blackness. The moment hishead was in the opening the sense of listening, which is ever in ahouse, came to him. There were the strange, musty, underground odorswhich go with cellars and make men think of death. 

However, he must not stay here indefinitely. To be seen leaning in atthis window was as bad as to be seen in the house itself. He slippedthrough the opening at once, and beneath his feet there was a softcrunching of coal. He had come directly into the bin. Turning, heclosed the window, for that would be a definite clue to any one whomight pass down the alley. 

As he stood surrounded by that hostile silence, that evil darkness, he grew somewhat accustomed to the dimness, and he could make out notdefinite objects, but ghostly outlines. Presently he took out thesmall electric torch which he carried and examined his surroundings. 

The bin had not yet received the supply of winter coal and was almostempty. He stepped out of it into a part of the basement which had beenused apparently for storing articles not worth keeping, but too goodto be thrown away--an American habit of thrift. Several decrepitchairs and rickety cabinets and old console tables were piled togetherin a tangled mass. Ronicky looked at them with an unaccountableshudder, as if he read in them the history of the ruin and fall anddeath of many an old inhabitant of this house. It seemed to hisexcited imagination that the man with the sneer had been the cause ofall the destruction and would be the cause of more. 

He passed back through the basement quickly, eager to be out of themusty odors and his gloomy thoughts. He found the storerooms, reachedthe kitchen stairs and ascended at once. Halfway up the stairs, thedoor above him suddenly opened and light poured down at him. He sawthe flying figure of a cat, a broom behind it, a woman behind thebroom. 

"Whisht! Out of here, dirty beast!"

The cat thudded against Ronicky's knee, screeched and disappearedbelow; the woman of the broom shaded her eyes and peered down thesteps. "A queer cat!" she muttered, then slammed the door. 

It seemed certain to Ronicky that she must have seen him, yet heknew that the blackness of the cellar had probably half blinded her. Besides, he had drawn as far as possible to one side of the steps, andin this way she might easily have overlooked him. 

In the meantime it seemed that this way of entering the house wasdefinitely blocked. He paused a moment to consider other plans, but, while he stayed there in thought, he heard the rattle of pans. Itdecided him to stay a while longer. Apparently she was washing thecooking utensils, and that meant that she was near the close of herwork for the evening. In fact, the rim of light, which showed betweenthe door frame and the door, suddenly snapped out, and he heard herfootsteps retreating. 

Still he delayed a moment or two, for fear she might return to takesomething which she had forgotten. But the silence deepened above him, and voices were faintly audible toward the front of the house. 

That decided Ronicky. He opened the door, blessing the well-oiledhinges which kept it from making any noise, and let a shaft from hispocket lantern flicker across the kitchen floor. The light glimmeredon the newly scrubbed surface and showed him a door to his right, opening into the main part of the house. 

He passed through it at once and sighed with relief when his foottouched the carpet on the hall beyond. He noted, too, that there wasno sign of a creak from the boards beneath his tread. However oldthat house might be, he was a noble carpenter who laid the flooring, Ronicky thought, as he slipped through the semi-gloom. For there wasa small hall light toward the front, and it gave him an uncertainillumination, even at the rear of the passage. 

Now that he was definitely committed to the adventure he wondered moreand more what he could possibly gain by it. But still he went on, and, in spite of the danger, it is doubtful if Ronicky would have willinglychanged places with any man in the world at that moment. 

At least there was not the slightest sense in remaining on the lowerfloor of the house. He slipped down the shadow of the main stairs, swiftly circled through the danger of the light of the lower hall lampand started his ascent. Still the carpet muffled every sound whichhe made in climbing, and the solid construction of the house did notbetray him with a single creaking noise. 

He reached the first hall. This, beyond doubt, was where he would findthe room of the man who sneered--the archenemy, as Ronicky Doone wasbeginning to think of him. A shiver passed through his lithe, muscularbody at the thought of that meeting. 

He opened the first door to his left. It was a small closet for broomsand dust cloths and such things. Determining to be methodical he wentto the extreme end of the hall and tried that door. It waslocked, but, while his hand was still on the knob, turning it indisappointment, a door, higher up in the house, opened and a humof voices passed out to him. They grew louder, they turned to thestaircase from the floor above and commenced to descend at a runningpace. Three or four men at least, there must be, by the sound, andperhaps more!

Ronicky started for the head of the stairs to make his retreat, but, just as he reached there, the party turned into the hall andconfronted him. 

Chapter Ten

_Mistaken Identity_

To flee down the stairs now would be rank folly. If there happened tobe among these fellows a man of the type of him who sneered, a bulletwould catch the fugitive long before he reached the bottom of thestaircase. And, since he could not retreat, Ronicky went slowly andsteadily ahead, for, certainly, if he stood still, he would be spokento. He would have to rely now on the very dim light in this hall andthe shadow of his cap obscuring his face. If these were roomers, perhaps he would be taken for some newcomer. 

But he was hailed at once, and a hand was laid on his shoulder. 

"Hello, Pete. What's the dope?"

Ronicky shrugged the hand away and went on. 

"Won't talk, curse him. That's because the plant went fluey. "

"Maybe not; Pete don't talk much, except to the old man. "

"Lemme get at him, " said a third voice. "Beat it down to Rooney's. I'mgoing up with Pete and get what he knows. "

And, as Ronicky turned onto the next flight of the stairway, he wasovertaken by hurrying feet. The other two had already scurried downtoward the front door of the house. 

"I got some stuff in my room, Pete, " said the friendly fellow whohad overtaken him. "Come up and have a jolt, and we can have a talk. 'Lefty' and Monahan think you went flop on the job, but I know better, eh? The old man always picks you for these singles; he never gives mea shot at 'em. " Then he added: "Here we are!" And, opening a door inthe first hall, he stepped to the center of the room and fumbled ata chain that broke loose and tinkled against glass; eventually hesnapped on an electric light. Ronicky Doone saw a powerfully built, bull-necked man, with a soft hat pulled far down on his head. Then theman turned. 

It was much against the grain for Ronicky Doone to attack a man bysurprise, but necessity is a stern ruler. And the necessity which madehim strike made him hit with the speed of a snapping whiplash and theweight of a sledge hammer. Before the other was fully turned thatiron-hard set of knuckles crashed against the base of his jaw. 

He fell without a murmur, without a struggle, Ronicky catching him inhis arms to break the weight of the fall. It was a complete knock-out. The dull eyes, which looked up from the floor, saw nothing. Thesquare, rather brutal, face was relaxed as if in sleep, but here wasthe type of man who would recuperate with great speed. 

Ronicky set about the obvious task which lay before him, as fast as hecould. In the man's coat pocket he found a handkerchief which, hardknotted, would serve as a gag. The window curtain was drawn with astout, thick cord. Ronicky slashed off a convenient length of it andsecured the hands and feet of his victim, before he turned the fellowon his face. 

Next he went through the pockets of the unconscious man who was onlynow beginning to stir slightly, as life returned after that stunningblow. 

It was beginning to come to Ronicky that there was a strange relationbetween the men of this house. Here were three who apparently startedout to work at night, and yet they were certainly not at all the typeof night clerks or night-shift engineers or mechanics. He turned overthe hand of the man he had struck down. The palm was as soft as hisown. 

No, certainly not a laborer. But they were all employed by "the oldman. " Who was he? And was there some relation between all of these andthe man who sneered?

At least Ronicky determined to learn all that could be read inthe pockets of his victim. There was only one thing. That was astub-nosed, heavy automatic. 

It was enough to make Ronicky Doone sigh with relief. At least he hadnot struck some peaceful, law-abiding fellow. Any man might carry agun--Ronicky himself would have been uncomfortable without some sortof weapon about him but there are guns and guns. This big, uglyautomatic seemed specially designed to kill swiftly and surely. 

He was considering these deductions when a tap came on the door. Ronicky groaned. Had they come already to find out what kept thesenseless victim so long?

"Morgan, oh, Harry Morgan!" called a girl's voice. 

Ronicky Doone started. Perhaps--who could tell--this might be CarolineSmith herself, come to tap at the door when he was on the very vergeof abandoning the adventure. Suppose it were someone else?

If he ventured out expecting to find Gregg's lady and found insteadquite another person--well, women screamed at the slightestprovocation, and, if a woman screamed in this house, it seemedexceedingly likely that she would rouse a number of men carrying justsuch short-nosed, ugly automatics as that which he had just taken fromthe pocket of Harry Morgan. 

In the meantime he must answer something. He could not pretend thatthe room was empty, for the light must be showing around the door. 

"Harry!" called the voice of the girl again. "Do you hear me? Comeout! The chief wants you!" And she rattled the door. 

Fear that she might open it and, stepping in, see the senseless figureon the floor, alarmed Ronicky. He came close to the door. 

"Well?" he demanded, keeping his voice deep, like the voice of HarryMorgan, as well as he could remember it. 

"Hurry! The chief, I tell you!"

He snapped out the light and turned resolutely to the door. He felthis faithful Colt, and the feel of the butt was like the touch of afriendly hand before he opened the door. 

She was dressed in white and made a glimmering figure in the darknessof the hall, and her hair glimmered, also, almost as if it possesseda light and a life of its own. Ronicky Doone saw that she was a verypretty girl, indeed. Yes, it must be Caroline Smith. The very perfumeof young girlhood breathed from her, and very sharply and suddenly hewondered why he should be here to fight the battle of Bill Gregg inthis matter--Bill Gregg who slept peacefully and stupidly in the roomacross the street!

She had turned away, giving him only a side glance, as he came out. "I don't know what's on, something big. The chief's going to give youyour big chance--with me. "

Ronicky Doone grunted. 

"Don't do that, " exclaimed the girl impatiently. "I know you thinkPete is the top of the world, but that doesn't mean that you can makea good imitation of him. Don't do it, Harry. You'll pass by yourself. You don't need a make-up, and not Pete's on a bet. "

They reached the head of the stairs, and Ronicky Doone paused. To godown was to face the mysterious chief whom he had no doubt was the oldman to whom Harry Morgan had already referred. In the meantime theconviction grew that this was indeed Caroline Smith. Her free-and-easyway of talk was exactly that of a girl who might become interested ina man whom she had never seen, merely by letters. 

"I want to talk to you, " said Ronicky, muffling his voice. "I want totalk to you alone. "

"To me?" asked the girl, turning toward him. The light from the halllamp below gave Ronicky the faintest hint of her profile. 

"Yes. "

"But the chief?"

"He can wait. "

She hesitated, apparently drawn by curiosity in one direction, butstopped by another thought. "I suppose he can wait, but, if he getsstirred up about it--oh, we'll, I'll talk to you--but nothing foolish, Harry. Promise me that?"

"Yes. "

"Slip into my room for a minute. " She led the way a few steps downthe hall, and he followed her through the door, working his mindfrantically in an effort to find words with which to open his speechbefore she should see that he was not Harry Morgan and cry out toalarm the house. What should he say? Something about Bill Gregg atonce, of course. That was the thing. 

The electric light snapped on at the far side of the room. He sawa dressing table, an Empire bed covered with green-figured silk, apleasant rug on the floor, and, just as he had gathered an impressionof delightful femininity from these furnishings, the girl turned fromthe lamp on the dressing table, and he saw--not Caroline Smith, but abronze-haired beauty, as different from Bill Gregg's lady as day isfrom night. 

Chapter Eleven

_A Cross-Examination_

He was conscious then only of green-blue eyes, very wide, very bright, and lips that parted on a word and froze there in silence. The heartof Ronicky Doone leaped with joy; he had passed the crisis in safety. She had not cried out. 

"You're not--" he had said in the first moment. 

"I am not who?" asked the girl with amazing steadiness. But he saw herhand go back to the dressing table and open, with incredible deftnessand speed, the little top drawer behind her. 

"Don't do that!" said Ronicky softly, but sharply. "Keep your hand offthat table, lady, if you don't mind. "

She hesitated a fraction of a second. In that moment she seemed to seethat he was in earnest, and that it would be foolish to tamper withhim. 

"Stand away from that table; sit down yonder. "

Again she obeyed without a word. Her eyes, to be sure, flickered hereand there about the room, as though they sought some means of sendinga warning to her friends, or finding some escape for herself. Then herglance returned to Ronicky Doone. 

"Well, " she said, as she settled in the chair. "Well?"

A world of meaning in those two small words--a world of dreadcontrolled. He merely stared at her thoughtfully. 

"I hit the wrong trail, lady, " he said quietly. "I was looking forsomebody else. "

She started. "You were after--" She stopped. 

"That's right, I guess, " he admitted. 

"How many of you are there?" she asked curiously, so curiously thatshe seemed to be forgetting the danger. "Poor Carry Smith with amob--" She stopped suddenly again. "What did you do to Harry Morgan?"

"I left him safe and quiet, " said Ronicky Doone. 

The girl's face hardened strangely. "What you are, and what your gameis I don't know, " she said. "But I'll tell you this: I'm letting youplay as if you had all the cards in the deck. But you haven't. I'vegot one ace that'll take all your trumps. Suppose I call once what'llhappen to you, pal?"

"You don't dare call, " he said. 

"Don't dare me, " said the girl angrily. "I hate a dare worse thananything in the world, almost. " For a moment her green-blue eyes werepools of light flashing angrily at him. 

Into the hand of Ronicky Doone, with that magic speed and grace forwhich his fame was growing so great in the mountain desert, came thelong, glimmering body of the revolver, and, holding it at the hip, hethreatened her. 

She shrank back at that, gasping. For there was an utter surety aboutthis man's handling of the weapon. The heavy gun balanced and steadiedin his slim fingers, as if it were no more than a feather's weight. 

"I'm talking straight, lady, " said Ronicky Doone. "Sit down--pronto!"

In the very act of obedience she straightened again. "It's bluff, " shesaid. "I'm going through that door!" Straight for the door she went, and Ronicky Doone set his teeth. 

"Go back!" he commanded. He glided to the door and blocked her way, but the gun hung futile in his hand. 

"It's easy to pull a gun, eh?" said the girl, with something of asneer. "But it takes nerve to use it. Let me through this door!"

"Not in a thousand years, " said Ronicky. 

She laid her hand on the door and drew it back--it struck hisshoulder--and Ronicky gave way with a groan and stood with his headbowed. Inwardly he cursed himself. Doubtless she was used to men whobullied her, as if she were another man of an inferior sort. Doubtlessshe despised him for his weakness. But, though he gritted his teeth, he could not make himself firm. Those old lessons which sink into aman's soul in the West came back to him and held him. In the helplessrage which possessed him he wanted battle above all things in theworld. If half a dozen men had poured through the doorway he wouldhave rejoiced. But this one girl was enough to make him helpless. 

He looked up in amazement. She had not gone; in fact, she had closedthe door slowly and stood with her back against it, staring at him ina speechless bewilderment. 

"What sort of a man are you?" asked the girl at last. 

"A fool, " said Ronicky slowly. "Go out and round up your friends; Ican't stop you. "

"No, " said the girl thoughtfully, "but that was a poor bluff atstopping me. "

He nodded. And she hesitated still, watching his face closely. 

"Listen to me, " she said suddenly. "I have two minutes to talk to you, and I'll give you those two minutes. You can use them in getting outof the house--I'll show you a way--or you can use them to tell me justwhy you've come. "

In spite of himself Ronicky smiled. "Lady, " he said, "if a rat was ina trap d'you think he'd stop very long between a chance of gettingclear and a chance to tell how he come to get into the place?"

"I have a perfectly good reason for asking, " she answered. "Even ifyou now get out of the house safely you'll try to come back later on. "

"Lady, " said Ronicky, "do I look as plumb foolish as that?"

"You're from the West, " she said in answer to his slang. 

"Yes. "

She considered the straight-looking honesty of his eyes. "Out West, "she said, "I know you men are different. Not one of the men I knowhere would take another chance as risky as this, once they were out ofit. But out there in the mountains you follow long trails, trails thathaven't anything but a hope to lead you along them? Isn't that so?"

"Maybe, " admitted Ronicky. "It's the fever out of the gold days, lady. You start out chipping rocks to find the right color; maybe you neverfind the right color; maybe you never find a streak of pay stuff, butyou keep on trying. You're always just sort of around the corner frommaking a big strike. "

She nodded, smiling again, and the smiles changed her pleasantly, itseemed to Ronicky Doone. At first she had impressed him almost as aman, with her cold, steady eyes, but now she was all woman, indeed. 

"That's why I say that you'll come back. You won't give up with onefailure. Am I right?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I dunno. If the trail fever hits meagain--maybe I would come back. "

"You started to tell me. It's because of Caroline Smith?"

"Yes. "

"You don't have to talk to me, " said the girl. "As a matter of fact Ishouldn't be here listening to you. But, I don't know why, I want tohelp you. You--you are in love with Caroline?"

"No, " said Ronicky. 

Her expression grew grave and cold again. "Then why are you herehunting for her? What do you want with her?"

"Lady, " said Ronicky, "I'm going to show you the whole layout of thecards. Maybe you'll take what I say right to headquarters--the manthat smiles--and block my game. "

"You know him?" she asked sharply. 

Apparently that phrase, "the man who smiles, " was enough to identifyhim. 

"I've seen him. I dunno what he is, I dunno what you are, lady, but Ifigure that you and Caroline Smith and everybody else in this house isunder the thumb of the gent that smiles. "

Her eyes darkened with a shadow of alarm. "Go on, " she said curtly. 

"I'm not going on to guess about what you all are. All I know is whatI'm here trying to do. I'm not working for myself. I'm working for apartner. "

She started. "That's the second man, the one who stopped her on thestreet today?"

"You're pretty well posted, " replied Ronicky. "Yes, that's the one. Hestarted after Caroline Smith, not even knowing her name--with justa picture of her. We found out that she lived in sight of the EastRiver, and pretty soon we located her here. "

"And what are you hoping to do?"

"To find her and talk to her straight from the shoulder and tell herwhat a pile Bill has done to get to her--and a lot of other things. "

"Can't he find her and tell her those things for himself?"

"He can't talk, " said Ronicky. "Not that I'm a pile better, but Icould talk better for a friend than he could talk for himself, Ifigure. If things don't go right then I'll know that the trouble iswith the gent with the smile. "

"And then?" asked the girl, very excited and grave. 

"I'll find him, " said Ronicky Doone. 

"And--"

"Lady, " he replied obliquely, "because I couldn't use a gun on a girlain't no sign that I can't use it on a gent!"

"I've one thing to tell you, " she said, breaking in swiftly on him. "Do what you want--take all the chances you care to--but, if you valueyour life and the life of your friend, keep away from the man whosmiles. "

"I'll have a fighting chance, I guess, " said Ronicky quietly. "

"You'll have no chance at all. The moment he knows your hand isagainst him, I don't care how brave or how clever you are, you'redoomed!"

She spoke with such a passion of conviction that she flushed, and amoment later she was shivering. It might have been the draft from thewindow which made her gather the hazy-green mantle closer about herand glance over her shoulder; but a grim feeling came to Ronicky Doonethat the reason why the girl trembled and her eyes grew wide, was thatthe mention of "the man who smiles" had brought the thought of himinto the room like a breath of cold wind. 

"Don't you see, " she went on gently, "that I like you? It's the firstand the last time that I'm going to see you, so I can talk. I knowyou're honest, and I know you're brave. Why, I can see your wholecharacter in the way you've stayed by your friend; and, if there's apossible way of helping you, I'll do it. But you must promise me firstthat you'll never cross the man with the sneer, as you call him. "

"There's a sort of a fate in it, " said Ronicky slowly. "I don't thinkI could promise. There's a chill in my bones that tells me I'm goingto meet up with him one of these days. "

She gasped at that, and, stepping back from him, she appeared to besearching her mind to discover something which would finally andcompletely convince him. At length she found it. 

"Do I look to you like a coward?" she said. "Do I seem to beweak-kneed?"

He shook his head. 

"And what will a woman fight hardest for?"

"For the youngsters she's got, " said Ronicky after a moment's thought. "And, outside of that, I suppose a girl will fight the hardest tomarry the gent she loves. "

"And to keep from marrying a man she doesn't love, as she'd try tokeep from death?"

"Sure, " said Ronicky. "But these days a girl don't have to marry thatway. "

"I am going to marry the man with the sneer, " she said simply enough, and with dull, patient eyes she watched the face of Ronicky wrinkleand grow pale, as if a heavy fist had struck him. 

"You?" he asked. "You marry him?"

"Yes, " she whispered. 

"And you hate the thought of him!"

"I--I don't know. He's kind--"

"You hate him, " insisted Ronicky. "And he's to have you, thatcold-eyed snake, that devil of a man?" He moved a little, and sheturned toward him, smiling faintly and allowing the light to come moreclearly and fully on her face. "You're meant for a king o' men, lady;you got the queen in you--it's in the lift of your head. When you findthe gent you can love, why, lady, he'll be pretty near the richest manin the world!"

The ghost of a flush bloomed in her cheeks, but her faint smile didnot alter, and she seemed to be hearing him from far away. "The manwith the sneer, " she said at length, "will never talk to me like that, and still--I shall marry him. "

"Tell me your name, " said Ronicky Doone bluntly. 

"My name is Ruth Tolliver. "

"Listen to me, Ruth Tolliver: If you was to live a thousand years, andthe gent with the smile was to keep going for two thousand, it'd nevercome about that he could ever marry you. "

She shook her head, still watching him as from a distance. 

"If I've crossed the country and followed a hard trail and come heretonight and stuck my head in a trap, as you might say, for the sake ofa gent like Bill Gregg--fine fellow though he is--what d'you think Iwould do to keep a girl like you from life-long misery?"

And he dwelt on the last word until the girl shivered. 

"It's what it means, " said Ronicky Doone, "life-long misery for you. And it won't happen--it can't happen. "

"Are you mad--are you quite mad?" asked the girl. "What on earth haveI and my affairs got to do with you? Who are you?"

"I dunno, " said Ronicky Doone. "I suppose you might say I'm a championof lost causes, lady. Why have I got something to do with you? I'lltell you why: Because, when a girl gets past being just pretty andstarts in being plumb beautiful, she lays off being the business ofany one gent--her father or her brother--she starts being the businessof the whole world. You see? They come like that about one in tenmillion, and I figure you're that one, lady. "

The far away smile went out. She was looking at him now with a sort ofsad wonder. "Do you know what I am?" she said gravely. 

"I dunno, " said Ronicky, "and I don't care. What you do don't count. It's the inside that matters, and the inside of you is all right. Lady, so long as I can sling a gun, and so long as my name is RonickyDoone, you ain't going to marry the gent with the smile. "

If he expected an outbreak of protest from her he was mistaken. Forwhat she said was: "Ronicky Doone! Is that the name? Ronicky Doone!"Then she smiled up at him. "I'm within one ace of being foolish andsaying--But I won't. "

She made a gesture of brushing a mist away from her and then steppedback a little. "I'm going down to see the man with the smile, and I'mgoing to tell him that Harry Morgan is not in his room, that he didn'tanswer my knock, and then that I looked around through the house anddidn't find him. After that I'm coming back here, Ronicky Doone, andI'm going to try to get an opportunity for you to talk to CarolineSmith. "

"I knew you'd change your mind, " said Ronicky Doone. 

"I'll even tell you why, " she said. "It isn't for your friend who'sasleep, but it's to give you a chance to finish this business and cometo the end of this trail and go back to your own country. Because, if you stay around here long, there'll be trouble, a lot of trouble, Ronicky Doone. Now stay here and wait for me. If anyone taps at thedoor, you'd better slip into that closet in the corner. Will youwait?"

"Yes. "

"And you'll trust me?"

"To the end of the trail, lady. "

She smiled at him again and was gone. 

Now the house was perfectly hushed. He went to the window and lookeddown to the quiet street with all its atmosphere of some old NewEngland village and eternal peace. It seemed impossible that in thehouse behind him there were--

He caught his breath. Somewhere in the house the muffled sound of astruggle rose. He ran to the door, thinking of Ruth Tolliver at once, and then he shrank back again, for a door was slammed open, and avoice shouted--the voice of a man: "Help! Harrison! Lefty! Jerry!"

Other voices answered far away; footfalls began to sound. RonickyDoone knew that Harry Morgan, his victim, had at last recovered andmanaged to work the cords off his feet or hands, or both. 

Ronicky stepped back close to the door of the closet and waited. Itwould mean a search, probably, this discovery that Morgan had beenstruck down in his own room by an unknown intruder. And a searchcertainly would be started at once. First there was confusion, andthen a clear, musical man's voice began to give orders: "Harrison, take the cellar. Lefty, go up to the roof. The rest of you take therooms one by one. "

The search was on. 

"Don't ask questions, " was the last instruction. "When you see someoneyou don't know, shoot on sight, and shoot to kill. I'll do theexplaining to the police--you know that. Now scatter, and the man whobrings him down I'll remember. Quick!"

There was a new scurry of footfalls. Ronicky Doone heard them approachthe door of the girl's room, and he slipped into the closet. At once acloud of soft, cool silks brushed about him, and he worked back untilhis shoulders had touched the wall at the back of the closet. Luckilythe enclosure was deep, and the clothes were hanging thickly from theracks. It was sufficient to conceal him from any careless searcher, but it would do no good if any one probed; and certainly these menwere not the ones to search carelessly. 

In the meantime it was a position which made Ronicky grind his teeth. To be found skulking among woman's clothes in a closet--to be draggedout and stuck in the back, no doubt, like a rat, and thrown into theriver, that was an end for Ronicky Doone indeed!

He was on the verge of slipping out and making a mad break for thedoor of the house and trying to escape by taking the men by surprise, when he heard the door of the girl's room open. 

"Some ex-pugilist, " he heard a man's voice saying, and he recognizedit at once as belonging to him who had given the orders. Herecognized, also, that it must be the man with the sneer. 

"You think he was an amateur robber and an expert prize fighter?"asked Ruth Tolliver. 

It seemed to Ronicky Doone that her voice was perfectly controlledand calm. Perhaps it was her face that betrayed emotion, for after amoment of silence, the man answered. 

"What's the matter? You're as nervous as a child tonight, Ruth?"

"Isn't there reason enough to make me nervous?" she demanded. "Arobber--Heaven knows what--running at large in the house?"

"H'm!" murmured the man. "Devilish queer that you should get soexcited all at once. No, it's something else. I've trained you toowell for you to go to pieces like this over nothing. What is it, Ruth?"

There was no answer. Then the voice began again, silken-smooth andgentle, so gentle and kindly that Ronicky Doone started. "In the olddays you used to keep nothing from me; we were companions, Ruth. Thatwas when you were a child. Now that you are a woman, when you feelmore, think more, see more, when our companionship should be like arunning stream, continually bringing new things into my life, I findbarriers between us. Why is it, my dear?"

Still there was no answer. The pulse of Ronicky Doone began toquicken, as though the question had been asked him, as though hehimself were fumbling for the answer. 

"Let us talk more freely, " went on the man. "Try to open your mind tome. There are things which you dislike in me; I know it. Just whatthose things are I cannot tell, but we must break down these foolishlittle barriers which are appearing more and more every day. Notthat I mean to intrude myself on you every moment of your life. Youunderstand that, of course?"

"Of course, " said the girl faintly. 

"And I understand perfectly that you have passed out of childhood intoyoung womanhood, and that is a dreamy time for a girl. Her body isformed at last, but her mind is only half formed. There is a pleasantmist over it. Very well, I don't wish to brush the mist away. If Idid that I would take half that charm away from you--that elusiveincompleteness which Fragonard and Watteau tried to imitate, Heavenknows with how little success. No, I shall always let you live yourown life. All that I ask for, my dear, are certain meeting places. Letus establish them before it is too late, or you will find one day thatyou have married an old man, and we shall have silent dinners. Thereis nothing more wretched than that. If it should come about, then youwill begin to look on me as a jailer. And--"

"Don't!"

"Ah, " said he very tenderly, "I knew that I was feeling toward thetruth. You are shrinking from me, Ruth, because you feel that I am tooold. "

"No, no!"

Here a hand pounded heavily on the door. 

"The idiots have found something, " said the man of the sneer. "And nowthey have come to talk about their cleverness, like a rooster crowingover a grain of corn. " He raised his voice. "Come in!"

And Ronicky Doone heard a panting voice a moment later exclaim: "We'vegot him!"

Chapter Twelve

_The Strange Bargain_

Ronicky drew his gun and waited. "Good, " said the man of the sneer. "Go ahead. "

"It was down in the cellar that we found the first tracks. He came inthrough the side window and closed it after him. "

"That dropped him into the coal bin. Did he get coal dust on hisshoes?"

"Right; and he didn't have sense enough to wipe it off. "

"An amateur--a rank amateur! I told you!" said the man of the sneer, with satisfaction. "You followed his trail?"

"Up the stairs to the kitchen and down the hall and up to Harry'sroom. "

"We already knew he'd gone there. "

"But he left that room again and came down the hall. "

"Yes. The coal dust was pretty well wiped off by that time, but weheld a light close to the carpet and got the signs of it. "

"And where did it lead?"

"Right to this room!"

Ronicky stepped from among the smooth silks and pressed close to thedoor of the closet, his hand on the knob. The time had almost come forone desperate attempt to escape, and he was ready to shoot to kill. 

A moment of pause had come, a pause which, in the imagination ofRonicky, was filled with the approach of both the men toward the doorof the closet. 

Then the man of the sneer said: "That's a likely story!"

"I can show you the tracks. "

"H'm! You fool, they simply grew dim when they got to this door. I'vebeen here for some time. Go back and tell them to hunt some more. Goup to the attic and search there. That's the place an amateur wouldmost likely hide. "

The man growled some retort and left, closing the door heavily behindhim, while Ronicky Doone breathed freely again for the first time. 

"Now, " said the man of the sneer, "tell me the whole of it, Ruth. "

Ronicky set his teeth. Had the clever devil guessed at the truth soeasily? Had he sent his follower away, merely to avoid having it knownthat a man had taken shelter in the room of the girl he loved?

"Go on, " the leader was repeating. "Let me hear the whole truth. "

"I--I--" stammered the girl, and she could say no more. 

The man of the sneer laughed unpleasantly. "Let me help you. It wassomebody you met somewhere--on the train, perhaps, and you couldn'thelp smiling at him, eh? You smiled so much, in fact, that he followedyou and found that you had come here. The only way he could get inwas by stealth. Is that right? So he came in exactly that way, like arobber, but really only to keep a tryst with his lady love? A prettystory, a true romance! I begin to see why you find me such a dullfellow, my dear girl. "

"John--" began Ruth Tolliver, her voice shaking. 

"Tush, " he broke in as smoothly as ever. "Let me tell the story foryou and spare your blushes. When I sent you for Harry Morgan you foundLochinvar in the very act of slugging the poor fellow. You helped himtie Morgan; then you took him here to your room; although you wereglad to see him, you warned him that it was dangerous to play withfire--fire being me. Do I gather the drift of the story fairly well?Finally you have him worked up to the right pitch. He is convincedthat a retreat would be advantageous, if possible. You show him thatit is possible. You point out the ledge under your window and the easyway of working to the ground. Eh?"

"Yes, " said the girl unevenly. "That is--"

"Ah!" murmured the man of the sneer. "You seem rather relieved that Ihave guessed he left the house. In that case--"

Ronicky Doone had held the latch of the door turned back for sometime. Now he pushed it open and stepped out. He was only barely intime, for the man of the sneer was turning quickly in his direction, since there was only one hiding place in the room. 

He was brought up with a shock by the sight of Ronicky's big Colt, held at the hip and covering him with absolute certainty. RuthTolliver did not cry out, but every muscle in her face and body seemedto contract, as if she were preparing herself for the explosion. 

"You don't have to put up your hands, " said Ronicky Doone, wonderingat the familiarity of the face of the man of the sneer. He had broodedon it so often in the past few days that it was like the face of anold acquaintance. He knew every line in that sharp profile. 

"Thank you, " responded the leader, and, turning to the girl, he saidcoldly: "I congratulate you on your good taste. A regular Apollo, mydear Ruth. "

He turned back to Ronicky Doone. "And I suppose you have overhead ourentire conversation?"

"The whole lot of it, " said Ronicky, "though I wasn't playing my handat eavesdropping. I couldn't help hearing you, partner. "

The man of the sneer looked him over leisurely. "Western, " he said atlast, "decidedly Western. 

"Are you staying long in the East, my friend?"

"I dunno, " said Ronicky Doone, smiling faintly at the coolness of theother. "What do you think about it?"

"Meaning that I'm liable to put an end to your stay?"

"Maybe!"

"Tush, tush! I suppose Ruth has filled your head with a lot of rotabout what a terrible fellow I am. But I don't use poison, and Idon't kill with mysterious X-rays. I am, as you see, a very quiet andordinary sort. "

Ronicky Doone smiled again. "You just oblige me, partner, " hereplied in his own soft voice. "Just stay away from the walls of theroom--don't even sit down. Stand right where you are. "

"You'd murder me if I took another step?" asked the man of the sneer, and a contemptuous and sardonic expression flitted across his face forthe first time. 

"I'd sure blow you full of lead, " said Ronicky fervently. "I'd killyou like a snake, stranger, which I mostly think you are. So steplight, and step quick when I talk. "

"Certainly, " said the other, bowing. "I am entirely at your service. "He turned a little to Ruth. "I see that you have a most determinedcavalier. I suppose he'll instantly abduct you and sweep you away frombeneath my eyes?"

She made a vague gesture of denial. 

"Go ahead, " said the leader. "By the way, my name is John Mark. "

"I'm Doone--some call me Ronicky Doone. "

"I'm glad to know you, Ronicky Doone. I imagine that name fits you. Now tell me the story of why you came to this house; of course itwasn't to see a girl!"

"You're wrong! It was. "

"Ah?" In spite of himself the face of John Mark wrinkled with pain andsuspicious rage. 

"I came to see a girl, and her name, I figure, is Caroline Smith. "

Relief, wonder, and even a gleam of outright happiness shot into theeyes of John Mark. "Caroline? You came for that?" Suddenly he laughedheartily, but there was a tremor of emotion in that laughter. Theperfect torture, which had been wringing the soul of the man of thesneer, projected through the laughter. 

"I ask your pardon, my dear, " said John Mark to Ruth. "I should haveguessed. You found him; he confessed why he was here; you took pity onhim--and--" He brushed a hand across his forehead and was instantlyhimself, calm and cool. 

"Very well, then. It seems I've made an ass of myself, but I'll tryto make up for it. Now what about Caroline? There seems to be a wholehost of you Westerners annoying her. "

"Only one: I'm acting as his agent. "

"And what do you expect?"

"I expect that you will send for her and tell her that she is free togo down with me--leave this house--and take a ride or a walk with me. "

"As much as that? If you have to talk to her, why not do the talkinghere?"

"I dunno, " replied Ronicky Doone. "I figure she'd think too much aboutyou all the time. "

"The basilisk, eh?" asked John Mark. "Well, you are going to persuadeher to go to Bill Gregg?"

"You know the name, eh?"

"Yes, I have a curious stock of useless information. "

"Well, you're right; I'm going to try to get her back for Bill. "

"But you can't expect me to assent to that?"

"I sure do. "

"And why? This Caroline Smith may be a person of great value to me. "

"I have no doubt she is, but I got a good argument. "

"What is it?"

"The gun, partner. "

"And, if you couldn't get the girl--but see how absurd the whole thingis, Ronicky Doone! I send for the girl; I request her to go down withyou to the street and take a walk, because you wish to talk to her. Heavens, man, I can't persuade her to go with a stranger at night!Surely you see that!"

"I'll do that persuading, " said Ronicky Doone calmly. 

"And, when you're on the streets with the girl, do you suppose I'llrest idle and let you walk away with her?"

"Once we're outside of the house, Mark, " said Ronicky Doone, "I don'task no favors. Let your men come on. All I got to say is that I comefrom a county where every man wears a gun and has to learn how to useit. I ain't terrible backward with the trigger finger, John Mark. Notthat I figure on bragging, but I want you to pick good men for mytrail and tell 'em to step soft. Is that square?"

"Aside from certain idiosyncrasies, such as your manner of paying acall by way of a cellar window, I think you are the soul of honor, Ronicky Doone. Now may I sit down?"

"Suppose we shake hands to bind the bargain, " said Ronicky. "You sendfor Caroline Smith; I'm to do the persuading to get her out of thehouse. We're safe to the doors of the house; the minute we step intothe street, you're free to do anything you want to get either of us. Will you shake on that?"

For a moment the leader hesitated, then his fingers closed over theextended hand of Ronicky Doone and clamped down on them like so manysteel wires contracting. At the same time a flush of excitement andfierceness passed over the face of John Mark. Ronicky Doone, takenutterly by surprise, was at a great disadvantage. Then he put thewhole power of his own hand into the grip, and it was like ironmeeting iron. A great rage came in the eyes of John Mark; a greatwonder came in the eyes of the Westerner. Where did John Mark get hissudden strength?

"Well, " said Ronicky, "we've shaken hands, and now you can do what youplease! Sit down, leave the room--anything. " He shoved his gun awayin his clothes. That brought a start from John Mark and a flash ofeagerness, but he repressed the idea, after a single glance at thegirl. 

"We've shaken hands, " he admitted slowly, as though just realizing thefull extent of the meaning of that act. "Very well, Ronicky, I'll sendfor Caroline Smith, and more power to your tongue, but you'll neverget her away from this house without force. "

Chapter Thirteen

_Doone Wins_

A servant answered the bell almost at once. "Tell Miss Smith thatshe's wanted in Miss Tolliver's room, " said Mark, and, when theservant disappeared, he began pacing up and down the room. Now andthen he cast a sharp glance to the side and scrutinized the faceof Ronicky Doone. With Ruth's permission, the latter had lighted acigarette and was smoking it in bland enjoyment. Again the leaderpaused directly before the girl, and, with his feet spread and hishead bowed in an absurd Napoleonic posture, he considered everyfeature of her face. The uncertain smile, which came trembling on herface, elicited no response from Mark. 

She dreaded him, Ronicky saw, as a slave dreads a cruel master. Stillshe had a certain affection for him, partly as the result of manybenefactions, no doubt, and partly from long acquaintance; and, aboveall, she respected his powers of mind intensely. The play of emotionin her face--fear, anger, suspicion--as John Mark paced up and downbefore her, was a study. 

With a secret satisfaction Ronicky Doone saw that her glancescontinually sought him, timidly, curiously. All vanity aside, he haddropped a bomb under the feet of John Mark, and some day the bombmight explode. 

There was a tap at the door, it opened and Caroline Smith entered ina dressing gown. She smiled brightly at Ruth and wanly at John Mark, then started at the sight of the stranger. 

"This, " said John Mark, "is Ronicky Doone. "

The Westerner rose and bowed. 

"He has come, " said John Mark, "to try to persuade you to go out for astroll with him, so that he can talk to you about that curious fellow, Bill Gregg. He is going to try to soften your heart, I believe, bytelling you all the inconveniences which Bill Gregg has endured tofind you here. But he will do his talking for himself. Just why he hasto take you out of the house, at night, before he can talk to you is, I admit, a mystery to me. But let him do the persuading. "

Ronicky Doone turned to his host, a cold gleam in his eyes. His casehad been presented in such a way as to make his task of persuasionalmost impossible. Then he turned back and looked at the girl. Herface was a little pale, he thought, but perfectly composed. 

"I don't know Bill Gregg, " she said simply. "Of course, I'm glad totalk to you, Mr. Doone, but why not here?"

John Mark covered a smile of satisfaction, and the girl looked at him, apparently to see if she had spoken correctly. It was obvious that theleader was pleased, and she glanced back at Ronicky, with a flush ofpleasure. 

"I'll tell you why I can't talk to you in here, " said Ronicky gently. "Because, while you're under the same roof with this gent with thesneer"--he turned and indicated Mark, sneering himself as he didso--"you're not yourself. You don't have a halfway chance to think foryourself. You feel him around you and behind you and beside youevery minute, and you keep wondering not what you really feel aboutanything, but what John Mark wants you to feel. Ain't that thestraight of it?"

She glanced apprehensively at John Mark, and, seeing that he did notmove to resent this assertion, she looked again with wide-eyed wonderat Ronicky Doone. 

"You see, " said the man of the sneer to Caroline Smith, "that ourfriend from the West has a child-like faith in my powers of--whatshall I say--hypnotism!"

A faint smile of agreement flickered on her lips and went out. Thenshe regarded Ronicky, with an utter lack of emotion. 

"If I could talk like him, " said Ronicky Doone gravely, "I surewouldn't care where I had to do the talking; but I haven't any smoothlingo--I ain't got a lot of words all ready and handy. I'm a prettysimple-minded sort of a gent, Miss Smith. That's why I want to get youout of this house, where I can talk to you alone. "

She paused, then shook her head. 

"As far as going out with me goes, " went on Ronicky, "well, they'snothing I can say except to ask you to look at me close, lady, andthen ask yourself if I'm the sort of a gent a girl has got anything tobe afraid about. I won't keep you long; five minutes is all I ask. Andwe can walk up and down the street, in plain view of the house, if youwant. Is it a go?"

At least he had broken through the surface crust of indifference. Shewas looking at him now, with a shade of interest and sympathy, but sheshook her head. 

"I'm afraid--" she began. 

"Don't refuse right off, without thinking, " said Ronicky. "I've workedpretty hard to get a chance to meet you, face to face. I busted intothis house tonight like a burglar--"

"Oh, " cried the girl, "you're the man--Harry Morgan--" She stopped, aghast. 

"He's the man who nearly killed Morgan, " said John Mark. 

"Is that against me?" asked Ronicky eagerly. "Is that all against me?I was fighting for the chance to find you and talk to you. Give methat chance now. "

Obviously she could not make up her mind. It had been curious thatthis handsome, boyish fellow should come as an emissary from BillGregg. It was more curious still that he should have had the daringand the strength to beat Harry Morgan. 

"What shall I do, Ruth?" she asked suddenly. 

Ruth Tolliver glanced apprehensively at John Mark and then flushed, but she raised her head bravely. "If I were you, Caroline, " she saidsteadily, "I'd simply ask myself if I could trust Ronicky Doone. Canyou?"

The girl faced Ronicky again, her hands clasped in indecision andexcitement. Certainly, if clean honesty was ever written in the faceof a man, it stood written in the clear-cut features of Ronicky Doone. 

"Yes, " she said at last, "I'll go. For five minutes--only in thestreet--in full view of the house. "

There was a hard, deep-throated exclamation from John Mark. He roseand glided across the room, as if to go and vent his anger elsewhere. But he checked and controlled himself at the door, then turned. 

"You seem to have won, Doone. I congratulate you. When he's talking toyou, Caroline, I want you constantly to remember that--"

"Wait!" cut in Ronicky sharply. "She'll do her own thinking, withoutyour help. "

John Mark bowed with a sardonic smile, but his face was colorless. Plainly he had been hard hit. "Later on, " he continued, "we'll seemore of each other, I expect--a great deal more, Doone. "

"It's something I'll sure wait for, " said Ronicky savagely. "I gotmore than one little thing to talk over with you, Mark. Maybe aboutsome of them we'll have to do more than talking. Good-by. Lady, I'llbe waiting for you down by the front door of the house. "

Caroline Smith nodded, flung one frightened and appealing glance toRuth Tolliver for direction, then hurried out to her room to dress. Ronicky Doone turned back to Ruth. 

"In my part of the country, " he said simply, "they's some gents weknow sort of casual, and some gents we have for friends. Once in awhile you bump into somebody that's so straight and square-shootingthat you'd like to have him for a partner. If you were out West, lady, and if you were a man--well, I'd pick you for a partner, becauseyou've sure played straight and square with me tonight. "

He turned, hesitated, and, facing her again, caught up her hand, touched it to his lips, then hurried past John Mark and through thedoorway. They could hear his rapid footfalls descending the stairs, and John Mark was thoughtful indeed. He was watching Ruth Tolliver, as she stared down at her hand. When she raised her head and met theglance of the leader she flushed slowly to the roots of her hair. 

"Yes, " muttered John Mark, still thoughtfully and half to himself, "there's really true steel in him. He's done more against me in onehalf hour than any other dozen men in ten years. "

Chapter Fourteen

_Her Little Joke_

A brief ten minutes of waiting beside the front door of the house, andthen Ronicky Doone heard a swift pattering of feet on the stairs. Presently the girl was moving very slowly toward him down the hall. Plainly she was bitterly afraid when she came beside him, under the dimhall light. She wore that same black hat, turned back from her whiteface, and the red flower beside it was a dull, uncertain blur. Decidedlyshe was pretty enough to explain Bill Gregg's sorrow. 

Ronicky gave her no chance to think twice. She was in the very act ofmurmuring something about a change of mind, when he opened the door and, stepping out into the starlight, invited her with a smile and a gestureto follow. In a moment they were in the freshness of the night air. Hetook her arm, and they passed slowly down the steps. At the bottom sheturned and looked anxiously at the house. 

"Lady, " murmured Ronicky, "they's nothing to be afraid of. We're goingto walk right up and down this street and never get out of sight of thefriends you got in this here house. "

At the word "friends" she shivered slightly, and he added: "Unless youwant to go farther of your own free will. "

"No, no!" she exclaimed, as if frightened by the very prospect. 

"Then we won't. It's all up to you. You're the boss, and I'm thecow-puncher, lady. "

"But tell me quickly, " she urged. "I--I have to go back. I mustn't stayout too long. "

"Starting right in at the first, " Ronicky said, "I got to tell you thatBill has told me pretty much everything that ever went on between youtwo. All about the correspondence-school work and about the letters andabout the pictures. "

"I don't understand, " murmured the girl faintly. 

But Ronicky diplomatically raised his voice and went on, as if he hadnot heard her. "You know what he's done with that picture of yours?"

"No, " she said faintly. 

"He got the biggest nugget that he's ever taken out of the dirt. He gotit beaten out into the right shape, and then he made a locket out of itand put your picture in it, and now he wears it around his neck, evenwhen he's working at the mine. "

Her breath caught. "That silly, cheap snapshot!"

She stopped. She had admitted everything already, and she had intendedto be a very sphinx with this strange Westerner. 

"It was only a joke, " she said. "I--I didn't really mean to--"

"Do you know what that joke did?" asked Ronicky. "It made two men fight, then cross the continent together and get on the trail of a girl whosename they didn't even know. They found the girl, and then she said she'dforgotten--but no, I don't mean to blame you. There's something queerbehind it all. But I want to explain one thing. The reason that Billdidn't get to that train wasn't because he didn't try. He did try. Hetried so hard that he got into a fight with a gent that tried to holdhim up for a few words, and Bill got shot off his hoss. "

"Shot?" asked the girl. "Shot?"

Suddenly she was clutching his arm, terrified at the thought. Sherecovered herself at once and drew away, eluding the hand of Ronicky. Hemade no further attempt to detain her. 

But he had lifted the mask and seen the real state of her mind; and she, too, knew that the secret was discovered. It angered her and threw herinstantly on the aggressive. 

"I tell you what I guessed from the window, " said Ronicky. "You wentdown to the street, all prepared to meet up with poor old Bill--"

"Prepared to meet him?" She started up at Ronicky. "How in the worldcould I ever guess--"

She was looking up to him, trying to drag his eyes down to hers, butRonicky diplomatically kept his attention straight ahead. 

"You couldn't guess, " he suggested, "but there was someone who couldguess for you. Someone who pretty well knew we were in town, who wantedto keep you away from Bill because he was afraid--"

"Of what?" she demanded sharply. 

"Afraid of losing you. "

This seemed to frighten her. "What do you know?" she asked. 

"I know this, " he answered, "that I think a girl like you, all in all, is too good for any man. But, if any man ought to have her, it's thegent that is fondest of her. And Bill is terrible fond of you, lady--hedon't think of nothing else. He's grown thin as a ghost, longing foryou. "

"So he sends another man to risk his life to find me and tell me aboutit?" she demanded, between anger and sadness. 

"He didn't send me--I just came. But the reason I came was because Iknew Bill would give up without a fight. "

"I hate a man who won't fight, " said the girl. 

"It's because he figures he's so much beneath you, " said Ronicky. "And, besides, he can't talk about himself. He's no good at that at all. But, if it comes to fighting, lady, why, he rode a couple of hosses to deathand stole another and had a gunfight, all for the sake of seeing you, when a train passed through a town. "

She was speechless. 

"So I thought I'd come, " said Ronicky Doone, "and tell you the insidesof things, the way I knew Bill wouldn't and couldn't, but I figure itdon't mean nothing much to you. "

She did not answer directly. She only said: "Are men like this in theWest? Do they do so much for their friends?"

"For a gent like Bill Gregg, that's simple and straight from theshoulder, they ain't nothing too good to be done for him. What I'd dofor him he'd do mighty pronto for me, and what he'd do for me--well, don't you figure that he'd do ten times as much for the girl he loves?Be honest with me, " said Ronicky Doone. "Tell me if Bill means anymoreto you than any stranger?"

"No--yes. "

"Which means simply yes. But how much more, lady?"

"I hardly know him. How can I say?"

"It's sure an easy thing to say. You've wrote to him. You've had lettersfrom him. You've sent him your picture, and he's sent you his, andyou've seen him on the street. Lady, you sure know Bill Gregg, and whatdo you think of him?"

"I think--"

"Is he a square sort of gent?"

"Y-yes. "

"The kind you'd trust?"

"Yes, but--"

"Is he the kind that would stick to the girl he loved and take care ofher, through thick and thin?"

"You mustn't talk like this, " said Caroline Smith, but her voicetrembled, and her eyes told him to go on. 

"I'm going back and tell Bill Gregg that, down in your heart, you lovehim just about the same as he loves you!"

"Oh, " she asked, "would you say a thing like that? It isn't a bit true. "

"I'm afraid that's the way I see it. When I tell him that, you can layto it that old Bill will let loose all holds and start for you, and, ifthey's ten brick walls and twenty gunmen in between, it won't make nodifference. He'll find you, or die trying. "

Before he finished she was clinging to his arm. 

"If you tell him, you'll be doing a murder, Ronicky Doone. What he'llface will be worse than twenty gunmen. "

"The gent that smiles, eh?"

"Yes, John Mark. No, no, I didn't mean--"

"But you did, and I knew it, too. It's John Mark that's between you andBill. I seen you in the street, when you were talking to poor Bill, lookback over your shoulder at that devil standing in the window of thishouse. "

"Don't call him that!"

"D'you know of one drop of kindness in his nature, lady?"

"Are we quite alone?"

"Not a soul around. "

"Then he is a devil, and, being a devil, no ordinary man has a chanceagainst him--not a chance, Ronicky Doone. I don't know what you did inthe house, but I think you must have outfaced him in some way. Well, forthat you'll pay, be sure! And you'll pay with your life, Ronicky. Everyminute, now, you're in danger of your life. You'll keep on being indanger, until he feels that he has squared his account with you. Don'tyou see that if I let Bill Gregg come near me--"

"Then Bill will be in danger of this same wolf of a man, eh? And, inspite of the fact that you like Bill--"

"Ah, yes, I do!"

"That you love him, in fact. "

"Why shouldn't I tell you?" demanded the girl, breaking down suddenly. "I do love him, and I can never see him to tell him, because I dreadJohn Mark. "

"Rest easy, " said Ronicky, "you'll see Bill, or else he'll die trying toget to you. "

"If you're his friend--"

"I'd rather see him dead than living the rest of his life, plumbunhappy. "

She shook her head, arguing, and so they reached the corner of BeekmanPlace again and turned into it and went straight toward the houseopposite that of John Mark. Still the girl argued, but it was in awhisper, as if she feared that terrible John Mark might overhear. 

 * * * * *

In the home of John Mark, that calm leader was still with Ruth Tolliver. They had gone down to the lower floor of the house, and, at his request, she sat at the piano, while Mark sat comfortably beyond the sphere ofthe piano light and watched her. 

"You're thinking of something else, " he told her, "and playingabominably. "

"I'm sorry. "

"You ought to be, " he said. "It's bad enough to play poorly for someonewho doesn't know, but it's torture to play like that for me. "

He spoke without violence, as always, but she knew that he was intenselyangry, and that familiar chill passed through her body. It never failedto come when she felt that she had aroused his anger. 

"Why doesn't Caroline come back?" she asked at length. 

"She's letting him talk himself out, that's all. Caroline's a cleveryoungster. She knows how to let a man talk till his throat is dry, andthen she'll smile and tell him that it's impossible to agree with him. Yes, there are many possibilities in Caroline. "

"You think Ronicky Doone is a gambler?" she asked, harking back to whathe had said earlier. 

"I think so, " answered John Mark, and again there was that tightening ofthe muscles around his mouth. "A gambler has a certain way of maskinghis own face and looking at yours, as if he were dragging your thoughtsout through your eyes; also, he's very cool; he belongs at a table withthe cards on it and the stakes high. "

The door opened. "Here's young Rose. He'll tell us the truth of thematter. Has she come back, Rose?"

The young fellow kept far back in the shadow, and, when he spoke, hisvoice was uncertain, almost to the point of trembling. "No, " he managedto say, "she ain't come back, chief. "

Mark stared at him for a moment and then slowly opened a cigarette caseand lighted a smoke. "Well, " he said, and his words were far moreviolent than the smooth voice, "well, idiot, what did she do?"

"She done a fade-away, chief, in the house across the street. Went inwith that other gent. "

"He took her by force?" asked John Mark. 

"Nope. She slipped in quick enough and all by herself. He went in last. "

"Damnation!" murmured Mark. "That's all, Rose. "

His follower vanished through the doorway and closed the door softlyafter him. John Mark stood up and paced quietly up and down the room. Atlength he turned abruptly on the girl. "Good night. I have business thattakes me out. "

"What is it?" she asked eagerly. 

He paused, as if in doubt as to how he should answer her, if he answeredat all. "In the old days, " he said at last, "when a man caught a poacheron his grounds, do you know what he did?"

"No. "

"Shot him, my dear, without a thought and threw his body to the wolves!"

"John Mark! Do you mean--"

"Your friend Ronicky, of course. "

"Only because Caroline was foolish are you going to--"

"Caroline? Tut, tut! Caroline is only a small part of it. He has donemore than that--far more, this poacher out of the West!"

He turned and went swiftly through the door. The moment it was closedthe girl buried her face in her hands. 

Chapter Fifteen

_The Girl Thief_

Before that death sentence had been passed on him Ronicky Doone stoodbefore the door of his room, with the trembling girl beside him. 

"Wait here, " he whispered to her. "Wait here while I go in and wake himup. It's going to be the greatest moment in his life! Poor Bill Gregg isgoing to turn into the richest man in New York City--all in one moment!"

"But I don't dare go in. It will mean--"

"It will mean everything, but it's too late to turn back now. Besides, in your heart of hearts, you don't want to turn back, you know!"

Quickly he passed into the room and hurried to the bed of Bill Gregg. Under the biting grip of Doone's hand Bill Gregg writhed to a sittingposture, with a groan. Still he was in the throes of his dream and onlyhalf awakened. 

"I've lost her, " he whispered. 

"You're wrong, idiot, " said Ronicky softly, "you're wrong. You've wonher. She's at the door now, waiting to come in. "

"Ronicky, " said Bill Gregg, suddenly awake, "you've been the finestfriend a man ever had, but, if you make a joke out of her, I'll wringyour neck!"

"Sure you would. But, before you do that, jump into your clothes andopen the door. "

Sleep was still thick enough in the brain of Bill Gregg to make him obeyautomatically. He stumbled into his clothes and then shambled dizzily tothe door and opened it. As the light from the room struck down the hallRonicky saw his friend stiffen to his full height and strike a handacross his face. 

"Stars and Stripes!" exclaimed Bill Gregg. "The days of the miraclesain't over!"

Ronicky Doone turned his back and went to the window. Across the streetrose the forbidding face of the house of John Mark, and it threatenedRonicky Doone like a clenched hand, brandished against him. The shadowunder the upper gable was like the shadow under a frowning brow. In thathouse worked the mind of John Mark. Certainly Ronicky Doone had won thefirst stage of the battle between them, but there was more to come--muchmore of that battle--and who would win in the end was an open question. He made up his mind grimly that, whatever happened, he would first shipBill Gregg and the girl out of the city, then act as the rear guard tocover their retreat. 

When he returned they had closed the door and were standing back fromone another, with such shining eyes that the heart of Ronicky Dooneleaped. If, for a moment, doubt of his work came to him, it wasbanished, as they glanced toward him. 

"I dunno how he did it, " Bill Gregg was stammering, "but here itis--done! Bless you, Ronicky. "

"A minute ago, " said Ronicky, "it looked to me like the lady didn't knowher own mind, but that seems to be over. "

"I found my own mind the moment I saw him, " said the girl. 

Ronicky studied her in wonder. There was no embarrassment, no shame tohave confessed herself. She had the clear brow of a child. Suddenly, itseemed to Ronicky that he had become an old man, and these were twochildren under his protection. He struck into the heart of the problemat once. 

"The main point, " he said, "is to get you two out of town, as quick aswe can. Out West in Bill's country he can take care of you, but backhere this John Mark is a devil and has the strength to stop us. Howquick can you go, Caroline?"

"I can never go, " she said, "as long as John Mark is alive. "

"Then he's as good as dead, " said Bill Gregg. "We both got guns, and, nomatter how husky John Mark may be, we'll get at him!"

The girl shook her head. All the joy had gone out of her face and lefther wistful and misty eyed. "You don't understand, and I can't tell you. You can never harm John Mark. "

"Why not?" asked Bill Gregg. "Has he got a thousand men around him allthe time? Even if he has they's ways of getting at him. "

"Not a thousand men, " said the girl, "but, you see, he doesn't needhelp. He's never failed. That's what they say of him: 'John Mark, theman who has never lost!'"

"Listen to me, " said Ronicky angrily. "Seems to me that everybody standsaround and gapes at this gent with the sneer a terrible lot, without apile of good reasons behind 'em. Never failed? Why, lady, here's onenight when he's failed and failed bad. He's lost you!"

"No, " said Caroline. 

"Not lost you?" asked Bill Gregg. "Say, you ain't figuring on going backto him?"

"I have to go back. "

"Why?" demanded Gregg. 

"It's because of you, " interpreted Ronicky Doone. "She knows that, ifshe leaves you, Mark will start on your trail. Mark is the name of thegent with the sneer, Bill. "

"He's got to die, then, Ronicky. "

"I been figuring on the same thing for a long time, but he'll die hard, Bill. "

"Don't you see?" asked the girl. "Both of you are strong men and brave, but against John Mark I know that you're helpless. It isn't the firsttime people have hated him. Hated? Who does anything but hate him? Butthat doesn't make any difference. He wins, he always wins, and that'swhy I've come to you. "

She turned to Bill Gregg, but such a sad resignation held her eyes thatRonicky Doone bowed his head. 

"I've come to tell you that I love you, that I have always loved you, since I first began writing to you. All of yourself showed through yourletters, plain and strong and simple and true. I've come tonight to tellyou that I love you, but that we can never marry. Not that I fear himfor myself, but for you. "

"Listen here, " said Bill Gregg, "ain't there police in this town?"

"What could they do? In all of the things which he has done no one hasbeen able to accuse him of a single illegal act--at least no one hasever been able to prove a thing. And yet he lives by crime. Does thatgive you an idea of the sort of man he is?"

"A low hound, " said Bill Gregg bitterly, "that's what he shows to be. "

"Tell me straight, " said Ronicky, "what sort of a hold has he got overyou? Can you tell us?"

"I have to tell you, " said the girl gravely, "if you insist, but won'tyou take my word for it and ask no more?"

"We have a right to know, " said Ronicky. "Bill has a right, and, mebeing Bill's friend, I have a right, too. "

She nodded. 

"First off, what's the way John Mark uses you?"

She clenched her hands. "If I tell you that, you will both despise me. "

"Try us, " said Ronicky. "And you can lay to this, lady, that, when agent out of the West says 'partner' to a girl or a man, he means it. What you do may be bad; what you are is all right. We both know it. Theinside of you is right, lady, no matter what John Mark makes you do. Buttell us straight, what is it?"

"He has made me, " said the girl, her head falling, "a thief!"

Ronicky saw Bill Gregg wince, as if someone had struck him in the face. And he himself waited, curious to see what the big fellow would do. Hehad not long to wait. Gregg went straight to the girl and took herhands. 

"D'you think that makes any difference?" he asked. "Not to me, and notto my friend Ronicky. There's something behind it. Tell us that!"

"There is something behind it, " said the girl, "and I can't say howgrateful I am to you both for still trusting me. I have a brother. Hecame to New York to work, found it was easy to spend money--and spentit. Finally he began sending home for money. We are not rich, but wegave him what we could. It went on like that for some time. Then, oneday, a stranger called at our house, and it was John Mark. He wanted tosee me, and, when we talked together, he told me that my brother haddone a terrible thing--what it was I can't tell even you. 

"I wouldn't believe at first, though he showed me what looked likeproofs. At last I believed enough to agree to go to New York and see formyself. I came here, and saw my brother and made him confess. What itwas I can't tell you. I can only say that his life is in the hand ofJohn Mark. John Mark has only to say ten words, and my brother is dead. He told me that. He showed me the hold that Mark had over him, andbegged me to do what I could for him. I didn't see how I could be of useto him, but John Mark showed me. He taught me to steal, and I havestolen. He taught me to lie, and I have lied. And he has me still in thehollow of his hand, do you see? And that's why I say that it's hopeless. Even if you could fight against John Mark, which no one can, youcouldn't help me. The moment you strike him he strikes my brother. "

"Curse him!" exclaimed Ronicky. "Curse the hound!" Then he added:"They's just one thing to do, first of all. You got to go back to JohnMark. Tell him that you came over here. Tell him that you seen BillGregg, but you only came to say good-by to him, and to ask him to leavetown and go West. Then, tomorrow, we'll move out, and he may think thatwe've gone. Meantime the thing you do is to give me the name of yourbrother and tell me where I can find him. I'll hunt him up. Maybesomething can be done for him. I dunno, but that's where we've got totry. "

"But--" she began. 

"Do what he says, " whispered Bill Gregg. "I've doubted Ronicky before, but look at all that he's done? Do what he says, Caroline. "

"It means putting him in your power, " she said at last, "just as he wasput in the power of John Mark, but I trust you. Give me a slip of paper, and I'll write on it what you want. "

Chapter Sixteen

_Disarming Suspicion_

From the house across the street Caroline Smith slipped out upon thepavement and glanced warily about her. The street was empty, quieter andmore villagelike than ever, yet she knew perfectly well that John Markhad not allowed her to be gone so long without keeping watch over her. Somewhere from the blank faces of those houses across the street hisspies kept guard over her movements. Here she glanced sharply over hershoulder, and it seemed to her that a shadow flitted into the door of abasement, farther up the street. 

At that she fled and did not stop running until she was at the door ofthe house of Mark. Since all was quiet, up and down the street, shepaused again, her hand upon the knob. To enter meant to step back intothe life which she hated. There had been a time when she had almostloved the life to which John Mark introduced her; there had been a timewhen she had rejoiced in the nimbleness of her fingers which had enabledher to become an adept as a thief. And, by so doing, she had kept thelife of her brother from danger, she verily believed. She was stillsaving him, and, so long as she worked for John Mark, she knew that herbrother was safe, yet she hesitated long at the door. 

It would be only the work of a moment to flee back to the man she loved, tell him that she could not and dared not stay longer with the mastercriminal, and beg him to take her West to a clean life. Her hand fellfrom the knob, but she raised it again immediately. 

It would not do to flee, so long as John Mark had power of life or deathover her brother. If Ronicky Doone, as he promised, was able to inspireher brother with the courage to flee from New York, give up his sportinglife and seek refuge in some far-off place, then, indeed, she would gowith Bill Gregg to the ends of the earth and mock the cunning fiend whohad controlled her life so long. 

The important thing now was to disarm him of all suspicion, make himfeel that she had only visited Bill Gregg in order to say farewell tohim. With this in her mind she opened the front door and stepped intothe hall, always lighted with ominous dimness. That gloom fell about herlike the visible presence of John Mark. 

A squat, powerful figure glided out of the doorway to the right. It wasHarry Morgan, and the side of his face was swathed in bandages, so thathe had to twist his mouth violently in order to speak. 

"The chief, " he said abruptly. "Beat it quick to his room. He wantsyou. "

"Why?" asked Caroline, hoping to extract some grain or two ofinformation from the henchman. 

"Listen, kid, " said the sullen criminal. "D'you think I'm a nut to blowwhat I know? You beat it, and he'll tell you what he wants. "

The violence of this language, however, had given her clues enough tothe workings of the chief's mind. She had always been a favored memberof the gang, and the men had whistled attendance on her hardly less thanupon Ruth Tolliver herself. This sudden harshness in the language ofHarry Morgan told her that too much was known, or guessed. 

A sudden weakness came over her. "I'm going out, " she said, turning toHarry Morgan who had sauntered over to the front door. 

"Are you?" he asked. 

"I'm going to take one turn more up the block. I'm not sleepy yet, " sherepeated and put her hand on the knob of the door. 

"Not so you could notice it, you ain't, " retorted Morgan. "We've takenlip enough from you, kid. Your day's over. Go up and see what the chiefhas to say, but you ain't going through this door unless you walk overme. "

"Those are orders?" she asked, stepping back, with her heart turningcold. 

"Think I'm doing this on my own hook?"

She turned slowly to the stairs. With her hand on the balustrade shedecided to try the effect of one personal appeal. Nerving herself shewhirled and ran to Harry Morgan. "Harry, " she whispered, "let me go outtill I've worked up my courage. You know he's terrible to face when he'sangry. And I'm afraid, Harry--I'm terribly afraid!"

"Are you?" asked Morgan. "Well, you ain't the first. Go and take yourmedicine like the rest of us have done, time and time running. "

There was no help for it. She went wearily up the stairs to the room ofthe master thief. There she gave the accustomed rap with the properintervals. Instantly the cold, soft voice, which she knew and hated so, called to her to enter. 

She found him in the act of putting aside his book. He was seated in adeep easy-chair; a dressing gown of silk and a pair of horn-rimmedspectacles gave him a look of owlish wisdom, with a touch of the owl'sfutility of expression, likewise. He rose, as usual, with all hiscourtesy. She thought at first, as he showed her to a chair, that he wasgoing to take his usual damnable tack of pretended ignorance in order tosee how much she would confess. However, tonight this was not his planof battle. 

The moment she was seated, he removed his spectacles, drew a chair closeto hers and sat down, leaning far forward. "Now, my dear, foolish girl, "said the master thief, smiling benevolently upon her, "what have youbeen doing tonight to make us all miserable?"

She knew at once that he was aware of every move she had made, from thefirst to the last. It gave her firmness to tell the lie with suavity. "It's a queer yarn, John, " she said. 

"I'm used to queer yarns, " he answered. "But where have you been allthis time? It was only to take five minutes, I thought. "

She made herself laugh. "That's because you don't know Ronicky Doone, John. "

"I'm getting to know him, however, " said the master. "And, before I'mdone, I hope to know him very well indeed. "

"Well, he has a persuasive tongue. "

"I think I noticed that for myself. "

"And, when he told me how poor Bill Gregg had come clear across thecontinent--"

"No wonder you were touched, my dear. New Yorkers won't travel so far, will they? Not for a girl, I mean. "

"Hardly! But Ronicky Doone made it such a sad affair that I promised I'dgo across and see Bill Gregg. "

"Not in his room?"

"I knew you wouldn't let him come to see me here. "

"Never presuppose what I'll do. But go on--I'm interested--very. Just asmuch as if Ronicky Doone himself were telling me. "

She eyed him shrewdly, but, if there were any deception in him, he hidit well. She could not find the double meaning that must have beenbehind his words. "I went there, however, " she said, "because I wassorry for him, John. If you had seen you'd have been sorry, too, or elseyou would have laughed; I could hardly keep from it at first. "

"I suppose he took you in his arms at once?"

"I think he wanted to. Then, of course, I told him at once why I hadcome. "

"Which was?"

"Simply that it was absurd for him to stay about and persecute me; thatthe letters I wrote him were simply written for fun, when I was doingsome of my cousin's work at the correspondence schools; that the bestthing he could do would be to take my regrets and go back to the West. "

"Did you tell him all that?" asked John Mark in a rather changed voice. 

"Yes; but not quite so bluntly. "

"Naturally not; you're a gentle girl, Caroline. I suppose he took itvery hard. "

"Very, but in a silly way. He's full of pride, you see. He drew himselfup and gave me a lecture about deceiving men. "

"Well, since you have lost interest in him, it makes no difference. "

"But in a way, " she said faintly, rising slowly from her chair, "I can'thelp feeling some interest. "

"Naturally not. But, you see, I was worried so much about you and thisfoolish fellow that I gave orders for him to be put out of the way, assoon as you left him. "

Caroline Smith stood for a moment stunned and then ran to him. 

"No, no!" she declared. "In the name of the dear mercy of Heaven, John, you haven't done that?"

"I'm sorry. "

"Then call him back--the one you sent. Call him back, John, and I'llserve you the rest of my life without question. I'll never fail you, John, but for your own sake and mine, for the sake of everything fair inthe world, call him back!"

He pushed away her hands, but without violence. "I thought it would bethis way, " he said coldly. "You told a very good lie, Caroline. Isuppose clever Ronicky Doone rehearsed you in it, but it needed only theoldest trick in the world to expose you. "

She recoiled from him. "It was only a joke, then? You didn't mean it, John? Thank Heaven for that!"

A savagery which, though generally concealed, was never far from thesurface, now broke out in him, making the muscles of his face tense andhis voice metallic. "Get to your room, " he said fiercely, "get to yourroom. I've wasted time enough on you and your brat of a brother, and nowa Western lout is to spoil what I've done? I've a mind to wash my handsof all of you--and sink you. Get to your room, and stay there, while Imake up my mind which of the two I shall do. "

She went, cringing like one beaten, to the door, and he followed her, trembling with rage. 

"Or have you a choice?" he asked. "Brother or lover, which shall it be?"

She turned and stretched out her hands to him, unable to speak; but theman of the sneer struck down her arms and laughed in her face. In muteterror she fled to her room. 

Chapter Seventeen

_Old Scars_

In his room Bill Gregg was striding up and down, throwing his handstoward the ceiling. Now and then he paused to slap Ronicky Doone on theback. 

"It's fate, Ronicky, " he said, over and over again. "Thinking of wakingup and finding the girl that you've loved and lost standing waiting foryou! It's the dead come to life. I'm the happiest man in the world. Ronicky, old boy, one of these days I'll be able--" He paused, stoppedby the solemnity of Doone's face. "What's wrong, Ronicky?"

"I don't know, " said the other gloomily. He rubbed his arms slowly, asif to bring back the circulation to numbed limbs. 

"You act like you're sick, Ronicky. "

"I'm getting bad-luck signs, Bill. That's the short of it. "

"How come?"

"The old scars are prickling. "

"Scars? What scars?"

"Ain't you noticed 'em. "

It was bedtime, so Ronicky Doone took off his coat and shirt. Therounded body, alive with playing muscles, was striped, here and there, with white streaks--scars left by healed wounds. 

"At your age? A kid like you with scars?" Bill Gregg had been asking, and then he saw the exposed scars and gasped. "How come, Ronicky, " heasked huskily in his astonishment, "that you got all those and ain'tdead yet?"

"I dunno, " said the other. "I wonder a pile about that, myself. Fact isI'm a lucky gent, Bill Gregg. "

"They say back yonder in your country that you ain't never been beaten, Ronicky. "

"They sure say a lot of foolish things, just to hear themselves talk, partner. A gent gets pretty good with a gun, then they say he's the bestthat ever breathed--that he's never been beat. But they forget thingsthat happened just a year back. No, sir; I sure took my lickings when Istarted. "

"But, dog-gone it, Ronicky, you ain't twenty-four now!"

"Between sixteen and twenty-two I spent a pile of time in bed, Bill, andyou can lay to that!"

"And you kept practicing?"

"Sure, when I found out that I had to. I never liked shooting much. Hated to think of having a gent's life right inside the crook of mytrigger finger. But, when I seen that I had to get good, why I just letgo all holds and practiced day and night. And I still got to practice. "

"I seen that, " said Bill Gregg. "Every day, for an hour or two, you workwith your guns. "

"It's like being a musician, " said Ronicky without enthusiasm. "I heardabout it once. Suppose a gent works up to be a fine musician, maybe atthe piano. You'd think, when he got to the top and knew everything, hecould lay off and take things easy the rest of his life. But not him!Nope, he's got to work like a slave every day. "

"But how come you felt them scars pricking as a bad-luck sign, Ronicky?"he asked after a time. "Is there anything that's gone wrong, far as yousee?"

"I dunno, " said Ronicky gravely. "Maybe not, and maybe so. I ain't aprophet, but I don't like having everything so smooth--not when they's agent like the man with the sneer on the other end of the wire. It meanshe's holding back some cards on us, and I'd sure like to see the colorof what he's got. What I'm going to work for is this, Bill: To getCaroline's brother, Jerry Smith, and rustle him out of town. "

"But how can you do that when John Mark has a hold on him?"

"That's a pile of bunk, Bill. I figure Mark is just bluffing. He ain'tgoing to turn anybody over to the police. Less he has to do with thepolice the happier he'll be. You can lay to that. Matter of fact, he'sbeen loaning money to Caroline's brother. You heard her say that. Also, he thinks that Mark is the finest and most generous gent that everstepped. Probably a selfish skunk of a spoiled kid, this brother ofhers. Most like he puts Mark up as sort of an ideal. Well, the thing todo is to get hold of him and wake him up and pay off his debts to Mark, which most like run to several thousand. "

"Several thousand, Ronicky? But where'll we get the money?"

"You forget that I can always get money. It grows on the bushes for me. "He grinned at Bill Gregg. 

"Once we get Jerry Smith, then the whole gang of us will head straightWest, as fast as we can step. Now let's hit the hay. "

Never had the mind of Ronicky Doone worked more quickly and surely tothe point. The case of Jerry Smith was exactly what he had surmised. Asfor the crime of which John Mark knew, and which he held like a clubover Jerry Smith, it had been purely and simply an act of self-defense. But, to Caroline and her brother, Mark had made it seem clear that theshadow of the electric chair was before the young fellow. 

Mark had worked seriously to win Caroline. She was remarkably dexterous;she was the soul of courage; and, if he could once make her love herwork, she would make him rich. In the meantime she did very well indeed, and he strengthened his hold on her through her brother. It was not hardto do. If Jerry Smith was the soul of recklessness, he was the soul ofhonor, also, in many ways. John Mark had only to lead the boy toward alife of heavy expenditures and gaming, lending him, from time to time, the wherewithal to keep it up. In this way he anchored Jerry as asafeguard to windward, in case of trouble. 

But, now that Ronicky Doone had entered the tangle, everything waschanged. That clear-eyed fellow might see through to the very bottom ofMark's tidewater plans. He might step in and cut the Gordian knot bysimply paying off Jerry's debts. Telling the boy to laugh at the dangerof exposure, Doone could snatch him away to the West. So Mark came toforestall Ronicky, by sending Jerry out of town and out of reach, forthe time being. He would not risk the effect of Ronicky's tongue. Hadnot Caroline been persuaded under his very eyes by this strangeWesterner?

Very early the next morning John Mark went straight to the apartment ofhis protégé. It was his own man, Northup, who answered the bell andopened the door to him. He had supplied Northup to Jerry Smith, immediately after Caroline accomplished the lifting of the Larriganemeralds. That clever piece of work had proved the worth of the girl andmade it necessary to spare no expense on Jerry. So he had given him thetried and proven Northup. 

The moment he looked into the grinning face of Northup he knew that themaster was not at home, and both the chief and the servant relaxed. Theywere friends of too long a term to stand on ceremony. 

"There's no one here?" asked Mark, as a matter of form. 

"Not a soul--the kid skipped--not a soul in the house. "

"Suppose he were to come up behind the door and hear you talk about himlike this, Northup? He's trim you down nicely, eh?"

"Him?" asked Northup, with an eloquent jerk of his hand. "He's a huskyyoung brute, but it ain't brute force that I work with. " He smiledsignificantly into the face of the other, and John Mark smiled inreturn. They understood one another perfectly. 

"When is he coming back?"

"Didn't leave any word, chief. "

"Isn't this earlier than his usual time for starting the day?"

"It is, by five hours. The lazy pup don't usually crack an eye till onein the afternoon. "

"What happened this morning. "

"Something rare--something it would have done your heart good to see!"

"Out with it, Northup. "

"I was routed out of bed at eight by a jangling of the telephone. Theoperator downstairs said a gentleman was calling on Mr. Smith. I said, of course, that Mr. Smith couldn't be called on at that hour. Then theoperator said the gentleman would come up to the door and explain. Itold him to come ahead. 

"At the door of the apartment I met as fine looking a youngster as Iever laid eyes on, brown as a berry, with a quick, straight look aboutthe eyes that would have done you good to see. No booze or dope in thatface, chief. He said--"

"How tall was he?" asked the chief. 

"About my height. Know him?"

"Maybe. What name did he give?"

"Didn't give a name. 'I've come to surprise Jerry, ' he says to me. 

"'Anybody would surprise Jerry at this hour of the morning, '" says I. 

"'It's too early, I take it?' says he. 

"'About five hours, ' says I. 

"'Then this is going to be one of the exceptions, ' says he. 

"'If you knew Jerry better you wouldn't force yourself on him, ' says I. 

"'Son, ' says this fresh kid--"

"Is this the way you talk to Smith?" broke in Mark. 

"No, I can polish up my lingo with the best of 'em. But this brown-facedyoungster was a card. Son, ' he says to me, 'I'll do my own explaining. Just lead me to his dugout. '

"I couldn't help laughing. 'You'll get a hot reception, ' says I. 

"'I come from a hot country, ' says he, 'and I got no doubt that Jerrywill try to make me at home, ' and he grinned with a devil in each eye. 

"'Come in, then, ' says I, and in he steps. 'And mind your fists, ' saysI, 'if you wake him up sudden. He fights sometimes because he has to, but mostly because it's a pleasure to him. '

"'Sure, ' says he. 'That's the way I like to have 'em come. '"

"And he went in?" demanded John Mark. 

"What's wrong with that?" asked Northup anxiously. 

"Nothing. Go ahead. "

"Well, in he went to Jerry's room. I listened at the door. I heard himcall Jerry, and then Jerry groaned like he was half dead. 

"'I don't know you, ' says Jerry. 

"'You will before I'm through with you, ' says the other. 

"'Who the devil are you?' asks Jerry. 

"'Doone is my name, ' says he. 

"'Then go to the devil till one o'clock, ' says Jerry. 'And come backthen if you want to. Here's my time for a beauty sleep. '

"'If it's that time, ' says Doone, 'you'll have to go ugly today. I'mhere to talk. '

"I heard Jerry sit up in bed. 

"'Now what the devil's the meaning of this?' he asked. 

"'Are you awake?' says Doone. 

"'Yes, but be hung to you!' says Jerry. 

"Don't be hanging me, ' says Doone. 'You just mark this day down inred--it's a lucky one for you, son. '

"'An' how d'you mean that?' says Jerry, and I could hear by his voicethat he was choking, he was that crazy mad. 

"'Because it's the day you met me, ' says Doone; 'that's why it's a luckyone for you. '

"'Listen to me, ' says Jerry, 'of all the nervy, cold-blooded fakers thatever stepped you're the nerviest. '

"'Thanks, ' says Doone. 'I think I am doing pretty well. '

"'If I wanted to waste the time, ' says Jerry, 'I'd get up and throw youout. '

"'It's a wise man, ' says Doone, 'that does his talking from the otherside of a rock. '

"'Well, ' says Jerry, 'd'you think I can't throw you out?'

"'Anyway, ' says Doone, 'I'm still here. '

"I heard the springs squeal, as Jerry went bouncing out of bed. For aminute they wrestled, and I opened the door. What I see was Jerry lyingflat, and Doone sitting on his chest, as calm and smiling as you please. I closed the door quick. Jerry's too game a boy to mind being lickedfair and square, but, of course, he'd rather fight till he died thanhave me or anybody else see him give up. 

"'I dunno how you got there, ' says Jerry, 'but, if I don't kill you forthis later on, I'd like to shake hands with you. It was a good trick. '

"'The gent that taught me near busted me in two with the trick of it, 'said Doone. 'S'pose I let you up. Is it to be a handshaking orfighting?'

"'My wind is gone for half an hour, ' says Jerry, 'and my head is prettynear jarred loose from my spinal column. I guess it'll have to behand-shaking today. But I warn you, Doone, ' he says, 'someday I'll haveit all out with you over again. '

"'Any time you mention, ' says Doone, 'but, if you'd landed that leftwhen you rushed in, I would have been on the carpet, instead of you. '

"And Jerry chuckles, feeling a pile better to think how near he'd cometo winning the fight. 

"'Wait till I jump under the shower, ' says Jerry, 'and I'll be with youagain. Have you had breakfast? And what brought you to me? And who thedevil are you, Doone? Are you out of the West?'

"He piles all these questions thick and fast at Doone, and then I seenright off that him and Doone had made up to be pretty thick with eachother. So I went away from the door and didn't listen any more, and inabout half an hour out they walk, arm in arm, like old pals. "

It was perfectly clear to John Mark that Ronicky had come therepurposely to break the link between him and young Jerry Smith. It wasperfectly plain why he wanted to do it. 

"How much does Jerry owe me?" he asked suddenly. 

The other drew out a pad and calculated for a moment: "Seven thousandeight hundred and forty-two, " he announced with a grin, as he put backthe pad. "That's what he's sold himself for, up to this time. "

"Too much in a way and not enough in another way, " replied John Mark. "Listen, if he comes back, which I doubt, keep him here. Get him awayfrom Ronicky--dope him--dope them both. In any case, if he comes backhere, don't let him get away. You understand?"

"Nope, but I don't need to understand. I'll do it. "

John Mark nodded and turned toward the door. 

Chapter Eighteen

_The Spider's Web_

Only the select attended the meetings at Fernand's. It was doubly hardto choose them. They had to have enough money to afford high play, andthey also had to lose without a murmur. It made it extremely difficultto build up a clientele, but Fernand was equal to the task. He seemed tosmell out the character of a man or woman, to know at once how much ironwas in their souls. And, following the course of an evening's play, Fernand knew the exact moment at which a man had had enough. It wasnever twice the same for the same man. A rich fellow, who lost twentythousand one day and laughed at it, might groan and curse if he losttwenty hundred a week later. 

It was Fernand's desire to keep those groans and curses from being heardin his gaming house. He extracted wallets painlessly, so to speak. 

He was never crooked; and yet he would not have a dealer in his employunless the fellow knew every good trick of running up the deck. Thereason was that, while Fernand never cheated in order to take money awayfrom his customers, he very, very frequently had his men cheat in orderto give money away. 

This sounds like a mad procedure for the proprietor of a gaming house, but there were profound reasons beneath it. For one of the maxims ofFernand--and, like every gambler, he had many of them--was that the bestway to make a man lose money is first of all to make him win it. 

Such was Monsieur Frederic Fernand. And, if many compared him toFalstaff, and many pitied the merry, fat old man for having fallen intoso hard a profession, yet there were a few who called him a bloatedspider, holding his victims, with invisible cords, and bleeding themslowly to death. 

To help him he had selected two men, both young, both shrewd, both ironin will and nerve and courage, both apparently equally expert with thecards, and both just as equally capable of pleasing his clients. One wasa Scotchman, McKeever; the other was a Jew, Simonds. But in looks theywere as much alike as two peas out of one pod. They hated each otherwith silent, smiling hatred, because they knew that they were on trialfor their fortunes. 

Tonight the Jew, Simonds, was dealing at one of the tables, and theScotchman, McKeever, stood at the side of the master of the house, readyto execute his commissions. Now and again his dark eyes wandered towardthe table where the Jew sat, with the cards flashing through hisfingers. McKeever hungered to be there on the firing line! How he wishedhe could feel that sifting of the polished cardboard under his fingertips. They were playing Black Jack. He noted the smooth skill with whichSimonds buried a card. And yet the trick was not perfectly done. Had he, McKeever, been there--

At this point he was interrupted by the easy, oily voice of M. Fernand. "This is an infernal nuisance!"

McKeever raised his eyebrows and waited for an explanation. Two youngmen, very young, very straight, had just come into the rooms. One heknew to be Jerry Smith. 

"Another table and dealer wasted, " declared M. Fernand. "Smith--and, byheavens, he's brought some friend of his with him!"

"Shall I see if I can turn them away without playing?" asked McKeever. 

"No, not yet. Smith is a friend of John Mark. Don't forget that. Neverforget, McKeever, that the friends of John Mark must be treated withgloves--always!"

"Very good, " replied McKeever, like a pupil memorizing in class. 

"I'll see how far I can go with them, " went on M. Fernand. He wentstraight to the telephone and rang John Mark. 

"How far should I go with them?" he asked, after he had explained thatSmith had just come in. 

"Is there someone with him?" asked John Mark eagerly. 

"A young chap about the same age--very brown. "

"That's the man I want!"

"The man you want?"

"Fernand, " said Mark, without explaining, "those youngsters have goneout there to make some money at your expense. "

M. Fernand growled. "I wish you'd stop using me as a bank, Mark, " hecomplained. "Besides, it costs a good deal. "

"I pay you a tolerable interest, I believe, " said John Mark coldly. 

"Of course, of course! Well"--this in a manner of greatresignation--"how much shall I let them take away?"

"Bleed them both to death if you want. Let them play on credit. Go asfar as you like. "

"Very well, " said Fernand, "but--"

"I may be out there later, myself. Good-by. "

The face of Frederic Fernand was dark when he went back to McKeever. "What do you think of the fellow with Jerry Smith?" he asked. 

"Of him?" asked McKeever, fencing desperately for another moment, as hestared at Ronicky Doone. 

The latter was idling at a table close to the wall, running his handsthrough a litter of magazines. After a moment he raised his headsuddenly and glanced across the room at McKeever. The shock of meetingglances is almost a physical thing. And the bold, calm eyes of RonickyDoone lingered on McKeever and seemed to judge him and file thatjudgment away. 

McKeever threw himself upon the wings of his imagination. There wassomething about this fellow, or his opinion would not have been asked. What was it?

"Well?" asked Frederic Fernand peevishly. "What do you think of him?"

"I think, " said the other casually, "that he's probably a Westerngunman, with a record as long as my arm. "

"You think that?" asked the fat man. "Well, I've an idea that you thinkright. There's something about him that suggests action. The way helooks about, so slowly--that is the way a fearless man is apt to look, you know. Do you think you can sit at the table with Ronicky Doone, asthey call him, and Jerry Smith and win from them this evening?"

"With any sort of luck--"

"Leave the luck out of it. John Mark has made a special request. Tonight, McKeever, it's going to be your work to make the luck come toyou. Do you think you can?"

A faint smile began to dawn on the face of McKeever. Never in his lifehad he heard news so sweet to his ear. It meant, in brief, that he wasto be trusted for the first time at real manipulation of the cards. Histrust in himself was complete. This would be a crushing blow forSimonds. 

"Mind you, " the master of the house went on, "if you are caught atworking--"

"Nonsense!" said McKeever happily. "They can't follow my hands. "

"This fellow Doone--I don't know. "

"I'll take the chance. "

"If you're caught I turn you out. You hear? Are you willing to take therisk?"

"Yes, " said McKeever, very pale, but determined. 

At the right moment McKeever approached Jerry and Ronicky, dark, handsome, smoothly amiable. He was clever enough to make no indirecteffort to introduce his topic. "I see that you gentlemen are lookingabout, " he said. "Yonder is a clear table for us. Do you agree, Mr. Smith?"

Jerry Smith nodded, and, having introduced Ronicky Doone, the threestarted for the table which had been indicated. 

It was in an alcove, apart from the sweep of big rooms which were givenover to the players. It lay, too, conveniently in range of the beat ofFrederic Fernand, as he moved slowly back and forth, over a limitedterritory and stopped, here and there for a word, here and there for asmile. He was smoothing the way for dollars to slide out of wallets. Nowhe deliberately stopped the party in their progress to the alcove. 

"I have to meet you, " he said to Ronicky. "You remind me of a friend ofmy father, a young Westerner, those many years ago. Same brown skin, same clear eye. He was a card expert, the man I'm thinking about. I hopeyou're not in the same class, my friend!"

Then he went on, laughing thunderously at his own poor jest. Particularly from the back, as he retreated, he seemed a harmless fatman, very simple, very naive. But Ronicky Doone regarded him with aninterest both cold and keen. And, with much the same regard, afterFernand had passed out of view, the Westerner regarded the table atwhich they were to sit. 

In the alcove were three wall lights, giving an ample illumination--tooample to suit Ronicky Doone. For McKeever had taken the chair with theback to the light. He made no comment, but, taking the chair which wasfacing the lights, the chair which had been pointed out to him byMcKeever, he drew it around on the far side and sat down next to theprofessional gambler. 

Chapter Nineteen

_Stacked Cards_

The game opened slowly. The first, second, and third hands were won byJerry Smith. He tucked away his chips with a smile of satisfaction, asif the three hands were significant of the whole progress of the game. But Ronicky Doone pocketed his losses without either smile or sneer. Hehad played too often in games in the West which ran to huge prices. Miners had come in with their belts loaded with dust, eager to bet theentire sum of their winnings at once. Ranchers, fat with the profits ofa good sale of cattle, had wagered the whole amount of it in a singleevening. As far as large losses and large gains were concerned, RonickyDoone was ready to handle the bets of anyone, other than millionaires, without a smile or a wince. 

The trouble with McKeever was that he was playing the game too closely. Long before, it had been a maxim with the chief that a good gamblershould only lose by a small margin. That maxim McKeever, playing for thefirst time for what he felt were important stakes in the eyes ofFernand, followed too closely. Stacking the cards, with the adeptnesswhich years of practice had given to him, he never raised the amount ofhis opponent's hand beyond its own order. A pair was beaten by a pair, three of a kind was simply beaten by three of a kind of a higher order;and, when a full house was permitted by his expert dealing to appear toexcite the other gamblers, he himself indulged in no more than asuperior grade of three of a kind. 

Half a dozen times these coincidences happened without calling for anydistrust on the part of Ronicky Doone, but eventually he began to think. Steady training enabled his eyes to do what the eyes of the ordinary mancould not achieve, and, while to Jerry Smith all that happened in thedeals of McKeever was the height of correctness, Ronicky Doone, at theseventh deal, awakened to the fact that something was wrong. 

He hardly dared to allow himself to think of anything for a time, butwaited and watched, hoping against hope that Jerry Smith himself woulddiscover the fraud which was being perpetrated on them. But Jerry Smithmaintained a bland interest in the game. He had won between two andthree hundred, and these winnings had been allowed by McKeever toaccumulate in little runs, here and there. For nothing encourages agambler toward reckless betting so much as a few series of high hands. He then begins to believe that he can tell, by some mysterious feelinginside, that one good hand presages another. Jerry Smith had not beenbrought to the point where he was willing to plunge, but he was veryclose to it. 

McKeever was gathering the youngster in the hollow of his hand, andRonicky Doone, fully awake and aware of all that was happening, felt agathering rage accumulate in him. There was something doubly horrible inthis cheating in this place. Ronicky set his teeth and watched. Plainlyhe was the chosen victim. The winnings of Jerry Smith were carefullybalanced against the losses of Ronicky Doone. Hatred for thissmooth-faced McKeever was waxing in him, and hatred in Ronicky Doonemeant battle. 

An interruption came to him from the side. It came in the form of abrief rustling of silk, like the stir of wind, and then Ruth Tolliver'scoppery hair and green-blue eyes were before him--Ruth Tolliver in anevening gown and wonderful to look at. Ronicky Doone indulged himselfwith staring eyes, as he rose to greet her. This, then, was her chosenwork under the régime of John Mark. It was as a gambler that she wasgreat. The uneasy fire was in her eyes, the same fire that he had seenin Western gold camps, in Western gaming houses. And the delicate, nervous fingers now took on a new meaning to him. 

That she had won heavily this evening he saw at once. The dangerous andimpalpable flush of the gamester was on her face, and behind it burned aglow and radiance. She looked as if, having defeated men by the coolnessof her wits and the favor of luck, she had begun to think that she couldnow outguess the world. Two men trailed behind her, stirring uneasilyabout when she paused at Ronicky's alcove table. 

"You've found the place so soon?" she asked. "How is your luck?"

"Not nearly as good tonight as yours. "

"Oh, I can't help winning. Every card I touch turns into gold thisevening. I think I have the formula for it. "

"Tell me, then, " said Ronicky quickly enough, for there was just theshadow of a backward nod of her head. 

"Just step aside. I'll spoil Mr. McKeever's game for him, I'm afraid. "

Ronicky excused himself with a nod to the other two and followed thegirl into the next room. 

"I have bad news, " she whispered instantly, "but keep smiling. Laugh ifyou can. The two men with me I don't know. They may be his spies for allwe can tell. Ronicky Doone, John Mark is out for you. Why, in Heaven'sname, are you interfering with Caroline Smith and her affairs? It willbe your death, I promise you. John Mark has arrived and has placed menaround the house. Ronicky Doone, he means business. Help yourself if youcan. I'm unable to lift a hand for you. If I were you I should leave, and I should leave at once. Laugh, Ronicky Doone!"

He obeyed, laughing until the tears were glittering in his eyes, untilthe girl laughed with him. 

"Good!" she whispered. "Good-by, Ronicky, and good luck. "

He watched her going, saw the smiles of the two men, as they greeted heragain and closed in beside her, and watched the light flash on hershoulders, as she shrugged away some shadow from her mind--perhaps thesmall care she had given about him. But no matter how cold-hearted shemight be, how thoroughly in tune with this hard, bright world of NewYork, she at least was generous and had courage. Who could tell how muchshe risked by giving him that warning?

Ronicky went back to his place at the table, still laughing in apparentenjoyment of the jest he had just heard. He saw McKeever's ferretlikeglance of interrogation and distrust--a thief's distrust of an honestman--but Ronicky's good nature did not falter in outward seeming for aninstant. He swept up his hand, bet a hundred, with apparently foolishrecklessness, on three sevens, and then had to buy fresh chips fromMcKeever. 

The coming of the girl seemed to have completely upset his equilibriumas a gambler--certainly it made him bet with the recklessness of amadman. And Frederic Fernand, glancing in from time to time, watched thedemolition of Ronicky's pile of chips, with growing complacence. 

Ronicky Doone had allowed himself to take heed of the room about him, and Frederic Fernand liked him for it. His beautiful rooms were pearlscast before swine, so far as most of his visitors were concerned. Amoment later Ronicky had risen, went toward the wall and drew a daggerfrom its sheath. 

It was a full twelve inches in length, that blade, and it came to apoint drawn out thinner than the eye could follow. The end was merely along glint of light. As for Ronicky Doone, he cried out in surprise andthen sat down, balancing the weapon in his hand and looking down at it, with the silent happiness of a child with a satisfying toy. 

Frederic Fernand was observing him. There was something remarkablylikable in young Doone, he decided. No matter what John Mark hadsaid--no matter if John Mark was a genius in reading the characters ofmen--every genius could make mistakes. This, no doubt, was one of JohnMark's mistakes. There was the free and careless thoughtlessness of aboy about this young fellow. And, though he glanced down the glimmeringblade of the weapon, with a sort of sinister joy, Frederic Fernand didnot greatly care. There was more to admire in the workmanship of thehilt than in a thousand such blades, but a Westerner would have his eyeon the useful part of a thing. 

"How much d'you think that's worth?" asked McKeever. 

"Dunno, " said Ronicky. "That's good steel. "

He tried the point, then he snapped it under his thumb nail and a littleshiver of a ringing sound reached as far as Frederic Fernand. 

Then he saw Ronicky Doone suddenly lean a little across the table, pointing toward the hand in which McKeever held the pack, ready for thedeal. 

McKeever shook his head and gripped the pack more closely. 

"Do you suspect me of crooked work?" asked McKeever. He pushed back hischair. Fernand, studying his lieutenant in this crisis, approved of himthoroughly. He himself was in a quandary. Westerners fight, and a fightwould be most embarrassing. "Do you think--" began McKeever. 

"I think you'll keep that hand and that same pack of cards on the tabletill I've had it looked over, " said Ronicky Doone. "I've dropped a coldthousand to you, and you're winning it with stacked decks, McKeever. "

There was a stifled oath from McKeever, as he jerked his hand back. Frederic Fernand was beginning to draw one breath of joy at the thoughtthat McKeever would escape without having that pack, of all packs, examined, when the long dagger flashed in the hand of Ronicky Doone. 

He struck as a cat strikes when it hooks the fish out of the stream--hestruck as the snapper on the end of a whiplash doubles back. And welland truly did that steel uphold its fame. 

The dull, chopping sound of the blow stood by itself for an instant. Then McKeever, looking down in horror at his hand, screamed and fellback in his chair. 

That was the instant when Frederic Fernand judged his lieutenant andfound him wanting. A man who fainted in such a crisis as this was beyondthe pale. 

Other people crowded past him. Frightened, desperate, he pushed on. Atlength his weight enabled him to squeeze through the rapidly gatheringcrowd of gamblers. 

The only nonchalant man of the lot was he who had actually used theweapon. For Ronicky Doone stood with his shoulders propped against thewall, his hands clasped lightly behind him. For all that, it was plainthat he was not unarmed. A certain calm insolence about his expressiontold Frederic Fernand that the teeth of the dragon were not drawn. 

"Gents, " he was saying, in his mild voice, while his eyes ran restlesslyfrom face to face, "I sure do hate to bust up a nice little party likethis one has been, but I figure them cards are stacked. I got a pile ofreasons for knowing, and I want somebody to look over themcards--somebody that knows stacked cards when he sees 'em. Mostly itain't hard to get onto the order of them being run up. I'll leave it, gents, to the man that runs this dump. "

And, leaning across the table, he pushed the pack straight to FredericFernand. The latter set his teeth. It was very cunningly done to traphim. If he said the cards were straight they might be examinedafterward; and, if he were discovered in a lie, it would mean more thanthe loss of McKeever--it would mean the ruin of everything. Did he daretake the chance? Must he give up McKeever? The work of years of carefuleducation had been squandered on McKeever. 

Fernand looked up, and his eyes rested on the calm face of RonickyDoone. Why had he never met a man like that before? There was anassistant! There was a fellow with steel-cold nerve--worth a thousandtrained McKeevers! Then he glanced at the wounded man, cowering andbunched in his chair. At that moment the gambler made up his mind toplay the game in the big way and pocket his losses. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, " he said sadly, placing the cards back on theedge of the table, "I am sorry to say that Mr. Doone is right. The packhas been run up. There it is for any of you to examine it. I don'tpretend to understand. Most of you know that McKeever has been with mefor years. Needless to say, he will be with me no more. " And, turning onhis heel, the old fellow walked slowly away, his hands clasped behindhim, his head bowed. 

And the crowd poured after him to shake his hand and tell him of theirunshakable confidence in his honesty. McKeever was ruined, but the houseof Frederic Fernand was more firmly established than ever, after thetrial of the night. 

Chapter Twenty

_Trapped!_

"Get the money, " said Ronicky to Jerry Smith. 

"There it is!"

He pointed to the drawer, where McKeever, as banker, had kept the money. The wounded man in the meantime had disappeared. 

"How much is ours?" asked Jerry Smith. 

"All you find there, " answered Ronicky calmly. 

"But there's a big bunch--large bills, too. McKeever was loaded forbear. "

"He loses--the house loses it. Out in my country, Jerry, that wouldn'tbe half of what the house would lose for a little trick like what's beenplayed on us tonight. Not the half of what the house would lose, I tellyou! He had us trimmed, Jerry, and out West we'd wreck this joint fromhead to heels. "

The diffident Jerry fingered the money in the drawer of the tableuncertainly. Ronicky Doone swept it up and thrust it into his pocket. "We'll split straws later, " said Ronicky. "Main thing we need rightabout now is action. This coin will start us. "

In the hall, as they took their hats, they found big Frederic Fernand inthe act of dissuading several of his clients from leaving. The incidentof the evening was regrettable, most regrettable, but such things wouldhappen when wild men appeared. Besides, the fault had been that ofMcKeever. He assured them that McKeever would never again be employed inhis house. And Fernand meant it. He had discarded all care for thewounded man. 

Ronicky Doone stepped to him and drew him aside. "Mr. Fernand, " he said, "I've got to have a couple of words with you. "

"Come into my private room, " said Fernand, eager to get the fighter outof view of the rest of the little crowd. He drew Ronicky and Jerry Smithinto a little apartment which opened off the hall. It was furnished withan almost feminine delicacy of style, with wide-seated, spindle-leggedLouis XV. Chairs and a couch covered with rich brocade. The desk was awork of Boulle. A small tapestry of the Gobelins made a ragged glow ofcolor on the wall. Frederic Fernand had recreated an atmosphere twohundred years old. 

He seated them at once. "And now, sir, " he said sternly to RonickyDoone, "you are aware that I could have placed you in the hands of thepolice for what you've done tonight?"

Ronicky Doone made no answer. His only retort was a gradually spreadingsmile. "Partner, " he said at length, while Fernand was flushing withanger at this nonchalance on the part of the Westerner, "they might ofgrabbed me, but they would have grabbed your house first. "

"That fact, " said Fernand hotly, "is the reason you have dared to actlike a wild man in my place? Mr. Doone, this is your last visit. "

"It sure is, " said Ronicky heartily. "D'you know what would havehappened out in my neck of the woods, if there had been a game like theone tonight? I wouldn't have waited to be polite, but just pulled a gatand started smashing things for luck. "

"The incident is closed, " Fernand said with gravity, and he leanedforward, as if to rise. 

"Not by a long sight, " said Ronicky Doone. "I got an idea, partner, thatyou worked the whole deal. This is a square house, Fernand. Why was Ipicked out for the dirty work?"

It required all of Fernand's long habits of self control to keep himfrom gasping. He managed to look Ronicky Doone fairly in the eyes. Whatdid the youngster know? What had he guessed?

"Suppose I get down to cases and name names? The gent that talked to youabout me was John Mark. Am I right?" asked Ronicky. 

"Sir, " said Fernand, thinking that the world was tumbling about hisears, "what infernal--"

"I'm right, " said Ronicky. "I can tell when I've hurt a gent by the wayhis face wrinkles up. I sure hurt you that time, Fernand. John Mark itwas, eh?"

Fernand could merely stare. He began to have vague fears that this youngdevil might have hypnotic powers, or be in touch with he knew not whatunearthly source of information. 

"Out with it, " said Ronicky, leaving his chair. 

Frederic Fernand bit his lip in thought. He was by no means a coward, and two alternatives presented themselves to him. One was to say nothingand pretend absolute ignorance; the other was to drop his hand into hiscoat pocket and fire the little automatic which nestled there. 

"Listen, " said Ronicky Doone, "suppose I was to go a little fartherstill in my guesses! Suppose I said I figured out that John Mark and hismen might be scattered around outside this house, waiting for me andSmith to come out: What would you say to that?"

"Nothing, " said Fernand, but he blinked as he spoke. "For a feat ofimagination as great as that I have only a silent admiration. But, ifyou have some insane idea that John Mark, a gentleman I know and respectgreatly, is lurking like an assassin outside the doors of my house--"

"Or maybe inside 'em, " said Ronicky, unabashed by this gravity. 

"If you think that, " went on the gambler heavily, "I can only keepsilence. But, to ease your own mind, I'll show you a simple way out ofthe house--a perfectly safe way which even you cannot doubt will leadyou out unharmed. Does that bring you what you want?"

"It sure does, " said Ronicky. "Lead the way, captain, and you'll find usright at your heels. " He fell in beside Jerry Smith, while the fat manled on as their guide. 

"What does he mean by a safe exit?" asked Jerry Smith. "You'd think wewere in a smuggler's cave. "

"Worse, " said Ronicky, "a pile worse, son. And they'll sure have to havesome tunnels or something for get-aways. This ain't a lawful house, Jerry. "

As they talked, they were being led down toward the cellar. They pausedat last in a cool, big room, paved with cement, and the unmistakablescent of the underground was in the air. 

"Here we are, " said the fat man, and, so saying, he turned a switchwhich illumined the room completely and then drew aside a curtain whichopened into a black cavity. 

Ronicky Doone approached and peered into it. "How does it look to you, Jerry?" he asked. 

"Dark, but good enough for me, if you're all set on leaving by somefunny way. "

"I don't care how it looks, " said Ronicky thoughtfully. "By the looksyou can't make out nothing most of the time--nothing important. Butthey's ways of smelling things, and the smell of this here tunnel ain'ttoo good to me. Look again and try to pry down that tunnel with yourflash light, Jerry. "

Accordingly Jerry raised his little pocket electric torch and held itabove his head. They saw a tunnel opening, with raw dirt walls and floorand a rude framing of heavy timbers to support the roof. But it turnedan angle and went out of view in a very few paces. 

"Go down there with your lantern and look for the exit, " said RonickyDoone. "I'll stay back here and see that we get our farewell all fixedup. "

The damp cellar air seemed to affect the throat of the fat man. Hecoughed heavily. 

"Say, Ronicky, " said Jerry Smith, "looks to me that you're carrying thispretty far. Let's take a chance on what we've got ahead of us?"

The fat man was chuckling: "You show a touching trust in me, Mr. Doone. "

Ronicky turned on him with an ugly sneer. "I don't like you, Fernand, "he said. "They's nothing about you that looks good to me. If I knew halfas much as I guess about you I'd blow your head off, and go on withoutever thinking about you again. But I don't know. Here you've got me upagainst it. We're going to go down that tunnel; but, if it's blind, Fernand, and you trap us from this end, it will be the worst day of yourlife. "

"Take this passage, Doone, or turn around and come back with me, andI'll show some other ways of getting out--ways that lie under the opensky, Doone. Would you like that better? Do you want starlight and JohnMark--or a little stretch of darkness, all by yourself?" asked Fernand. 

Ronicky Doone studied the face of Fernand, almost wistfully. The more heknew about the fellow the more thoroughly convinced he was that Fernandwas bad in all possible ways. He might be telling the truth now, however--again he might be simply tempting him on to a danger. There wasonly one way to decide. Ronicky, a gambler himself, mentally flipped acoin and nodded to Jerry. 

"We'll go in, " he said, "but man, man, how my old scars are pricking!"

They walked into the moldy, damp air of the tunnel, reached the corner, and there the passage turned and ended in a blank wall of raw dirt, witha little apron of fallen debris at the bottom of it. Ronicky Doonewalked first, and, when he saw the passage obstructed in this manner, hewhirled like a flash and fired at the mouth of the tunnel. 

A snarl and a curse told him that he had at least come close to histarget, but he was too late. A great door was sliding rapidly across thewidth of the tunnel, and, before he could fire a second time, the tunnelwas closed. 

Jerry Smith went temporarily mad. He ran at the door, which had justclosed, and struck the whole weight of his body against it. There wasnot so much as a quiver. The face of it was smooth steel, and there wasprobably a dense thickness of stonework on the other side, to match thecellar walls of the house. 

"It was my fool fault, " exclaimed Jerry, turning to his friend. "Myfault, Ronicky! Oh, what a fool I am!"

"I should have known by the feel of the scars, " said Ronicky. "Put outthat flash light, Jerry. We may need that after a while, and thebatteries won't last forever. "

He sat down, as he spoke, cross-legged, and the last thing Jerry saw, ashe snapped out the light, was the lean, intense face and the blazingeyes of Ronicky Doone. Decidedly this was not a fellow to trifle with. If he trembled for himself and Ronicky, he could also spare a shudderfor what would happen to Frederic Fernand, if Ronicky got away. In themeantime the light was out, and the darkness sat heavily beside andabout them, with that faint succession of inaudible breathing soundswhich are sensed rather than actually heard. 

"Is there anything that we can do?" asked Jerry suddenly. "It's allright to sit down and argue and worry, but isn't it foolish, Ronicky?"

"How come?"

"I mean it in this way. Sometimes when you can't solve a problem it'svery easy to prove that it can't be solved by anyone. That's what I canprove now, but why waste time?"

"Have we got anything special to do with our time?" asked Ronicky dryly. 

"Well, my proof is easy. Here we are in hard-pan dirt, without any sortof a tool for digging. So we sure can't tunnel out from the sides, canwe?"

"Looks most like we can't, " said Ronicky sadly. 

"And the only ways that are left are the ends. "

"That's right. "

"But one end is the unfinished part of the tunnel; and, if you think wecan do anything to the steel door--"

"Hush up, " said Ronicky. "Besides, there ain't any use in you talking ina whisper, either. No, it sure don't look like we could do much to thatdoor. Besides, even if we could, I don't think I'd go. I'd rather take achance against starvation than another trip to fat Fernand's place. If Iever enter it again, son, you lay to it that he'll get me bumped off, mighty pronto. "

Jerry Smith, after a groan, returned to his argument. "But that ties usup, Ronicky. The door won't work, and it's worse than solid rock. And wecan't tunnel out the side, without so much as a pin to help us dig, canwe? I think that just about settles things. Ronicky, we can't get out. "

"Suppose we had some dynamite, " said Ronicky cheerily. 

"Sure, but we haven't. "

"Suppose we find some?"

Jerry Smith groaned. "Are you trying to make a joke out of this?Besides, could we send off a blast of dynamite in a closed tunnel likethis?"

"We could try, " said Ronicky. "Way I'm figuring is to show you it's badmedicine to sit down and figure out how you're beat. Even if you owe apile of money they's some satisfaction in sitting back and adding up thefigures so that you come out about a million dollars on top--in yourdreams. Before we can get out of here we got to begin to feel powerfulsure. "

"But you take it straight, friend: Fernand ain't going to leave us inhere. Nope, he's going to find a way to get us out. That's easy tofigure out. But the way he'll get us out will be as dead ones, and thenhe can dump us, when he feels like it, in the river. Ain't that thesimplest way of working it out?"

The teeth of Jerry Smith came together with a snap. "Then the thing forus to do is to get set and wait for them to make an attack?"

"No use waiting. When they attack it'll be in a way that'll give us nochance. "

"Then you figure the same as me--we're lost?"

"Unless we can get out before they make the attack. In other words, Jerry, there may be something behind the dirt wall at the end of thetunnel. "

"Nonsense, Ronicky. "

"There's got to be, " said Ronicky very soberly, "because, if thereain't, you and me are dead ones, Jerry. Come along and help me look, anyway. "

Jerry rose obediently and flashed on his precious pocket torch, and theywent down to pass the turn and come again to the ragged wall of earthwhich terminated the passage. Jerry held the torch and passed it closeto the dirt. All was solid. There was no sign of anything wrong. Thevery pick marks were clearly defined. 

"Hold on, " whispered Ronicky Doone. "Hold on, Jerry. I seen something. "He snatched the electric torch, and together they peered at the patchfrom which the dried earth had fallen. 

"Queer for hardpan to break up like that, " muttered Ronicky, cuttinginto the surface beneath the patch, with the point of his hunting knife. Instantly there was the sharp gritting of steel against steel. 

The shout of Ronicky was an indrawn breath. The shout of Jerry Smith wasa moan of relief. 

Ronicky continued his observations. The thing was very clear. They haddug the tunnel to this point and excavated a place which they hadguarded with a steel door, but, in order to conceal the hiding place, orwhatever it might be, they cunningly worked the false wall of dirtagainst the face of it, using clay and a thin coating of plaster as abase. 

"It's a place they don't use very often, maybe, " said Ronicky, "andthat's why they can afford to put up this fake wall of plaster and mudafter every time they want to come down here. Pretty clever to leavethat little pile of dirt on the floor, just like it had been worked offby the picks, eh? But we've found 'em, Jerry, and now all we got to dois to get to the door and into whatever lies beyond. "

"We'd better hurry, then, " cried Jerry. 

"How come?"

"Take a breath. "

Ronicky obeyed; the air was beginning to fill with the pungent andunmistakable odor of burning wood!

Chapter Twenty-one

_The Miracle_

No great intelligence was needed to understand the meaning of it. Fernand, having trapped his game, was now about to kill it. He couldsuffocate the two with smoke, blown into the tunnel, and make them rushblindly out. The moment they appeared, dazed and uncertain, therevolvers of half a dozen gunmen would be emptied into them. 

"It's like taking a trap full of rats, " said Ronicky bitterly, "andshaking them into a pail of water. Let's go back and see what we can. "

They had only to turn the corner of the tunnel to be sure. Fernand hadhad the door of the tunnel slid noiselessly open, then, into the tunnelitself, smoking, slowly burning, pungent pieces of pine wood had beenthrown, having been first soaked in oil, perhaps. The tunnel was rapidlyfilling with smoke, and through the white drifts of it they looked intothe lighted cellar beyond. They would run out at last, gasping forbreath and blinded by the smoke, to be shot down in a perfect light. Somuch was clear. 

"Now back to the wall and try to find that door, " said Ronicky. 

Jerry had already turned. In a moment they were back and tearing withtheir fingers at the sham wall, kicking loose fragments with their feet. 

All the time, while they cleared a larger and larger space, theysearched feverishly with the electric torch for some sign of a knobwhich would indicate a door, or some button or spring which might beused to open it. But there was nothing, and in the meantime the smokewas drifting back, in more and more unendurable clouds. 

"I can't stand much more, " declared Jerry at length. 

"Keep low. The best air is there, " answered Ronicky. 

A voice called from the mouth of the tunnel, and they could recognizethe smooth tongue of Frederic Fernand. "Doone, I think I have you now. But trust yourselves to me, and all may still be well with you. Throwout your weapons, and then walk out yourselves, with your arms aboveyour heads, and you may have a second chance. I don't promise--I simplyoffer you a hope in the place of no hope at all. Is that a goodbargain?"

"I'll see you hung first, " answered Ronicky and turned again to his workat the wall. 

But it seemed a quite hopeless task. The surface of the steel was stillcovered, after they had cleared it as much as they could, with a thin, clinging coat of plaster which might well conceal the button or devicefor opening the door. Every moment the task became infinitely harder. 

Finally Jerry, his lungs nearly empty of oxygen, cast himself down onthe floor and gasped. A horrible gagging sound betrayed his efforts forbreath. 

Ronicky knelt beside him. His own lungs were burning, and his head wasthick and dizzy. "One more try, then we'll turn and rush them and diefighting, Jerry. "

The other nodded and started to his feet. Together they made that lasteffort, fumbling with their hands across the rough surface, andsuddenly--had they touched the spring, indeed?--a section of the surfacebefore them swayed slowly in. Ronicky caught the half-senseless body ofJerry Smith and thrust him inside. He himself staggered after, andbefore him stood Ruth Tolliver!

While he lay panting on the floor, she closed the door through whichthey had come and then stood and silently watched them. Presently Smithsat up, and Ronicky Doone staggered to his feet, his head clearingrapidly. 

He found himself in a small room, not more than eight feet square, witha ceiling so low that he could barely stand erect. As for thefurnishings and the arrangement, it was more like the inside of a safethan anything else. There were, to be sure, three little stools, butnothing else that one would expect to find in an apartment. For the restthere was nothing but a series of steel drawers and strong chests, lining the walls of the room and leaving in the center very little roomin which one might move about. 

He had only a moment to see all of this. Ruth Tolliver, hooded in anevening cloak, but with the light gleaming in her coppery hair, wasshaking him by the arm and leaning a white face close to him. 

"Hurry!" she was saying. "There isn't a minute to lose. You must startnow, at once. They will find out--they will guess--and then--"

"John Mark?" he asked. 

"Yes, " she exclaimed, realizing that she had said too much, and shepressed her hand over her mouth, looking at Ronicky Doone in a sort ofhorror. 

Jerry Smith had come to his feet at last, but he remained in thebackground, staring with a befuddled mind at the lovely vision of thegirl. Fear and excitement and pleasure had transformed her face, but sheseemed trembling in an agony of desire to be gone. She seemed invinciblydrawn to remain there longer still. Ronicky Doone stared at her, with astrange blending of pity and admiration. He knew that the danger was notover by any means, but he began to forget that. 

"This way!" called the girl and led toward an opposite door, very low inthe wall. 

"Lady, " said Ronicky gently, "will you hold on one minute? They won'tstart to go through the smoke for a while. They'll think they've chokedus, when we don't come out on the rush, shooting. But they'll wait quitea time to make sure. They don't like my style so well that they'll hurryme. " He smiled sourly at the thought. "And we got time to learn a lot ofthings that we'll never find out, unless we know right now, pronto!"

He stepped before the girl, as he spoke. "How come you knew we were inthere? How come you to get down here? How come you to risk everythingyou got to let us out through the treasure room of Mark's gang?"

He had guessed as shrewdly as he could, and he saw, by her immediatewincing, that the shot had told. 

"You strange, mad, wild Westerner!" she exclaimed. "Do you mean to tellme you want to stay here and talk? Even if you have a moment to spareyou must use it. If you knew the men with whom you are dealing you wouldnever dream of--"

In her pause he said, smiling: "Lady, it's tolerable clear that youdon't know me. But the way I figure it is this: a gent may die any time, but, when he finds a minute for good living, he'd better make the mostof it. "

He knew by her eyes that she half guessed his meaning, but she wished tobe certain. "What do you intend by that?" she asked. 

"It's tolerable simple, " said Ronicky. "I've seen square things done inmy life, but I've never yet seen a girl throw up all she had to do agood turn for a gent she's seen only once. You follow me, lady? I prettynear guess the trouble you're running into. "

"You guess what?" she asked. 

"I guess that you're one of John Mark's best cards. You're his chiefgambler, lady, and he uses you on the big game. "

She had drawn back, one hand pressed against her breast, her mouth tightwith the pain. "You have guessed all that about me?" she asked faintly. "That means you despise me!"

"What folks do don't matter so much, " said Ronicky. "It's the reasonsthey have for doing a thing that matters, I figure, and the way they doit. I dunno how John Mark hypnotized you and made a tool out of you, butI do know that you ain't changed by what you've done. "

Ronicky Doone stepped to her quickly and took both her hands. He wasnot, ordinarily, particularly forward with girls. Now he acted asgracefully as if he had been the father of Ruth Tolliver. "Lady, " hesaid, "you've saved two lives tonight. That's a tolerable lot to havepiled up to anybody's credit. Besides, inside you're snow-white. We'vegot to go, but I'm coming back. Will you let me come back?"

"Never, never!" declared Ruth Tolliver. "You must never see me--you mustnever see Caroline Smith again. Any step you take in that direction isunder peril of your life. Leave New York, Ronicky Doone. Leave it asquickly as you may, and never come back. Only pray that his arm isn'tlong enough to follow you. "

"Leave Caroline?" he asked. "I'll tell you what you're going to do, Ruth. When you get back home you're going to tell Caroline that Jerry, here, has seen the light about Mark, and that he has money enough to payback what he owes. "

"But I haven't, " broke in Jerry. 

"I have it, " said Ronicky, "and that's the same thing. "

"I'll take no charity, " declared Jerry Smith. 

"You'll do what I tell you, " said Ronicky Doone. "You been botheringenough, son. Go tell Caroline what I've said, " he went on to the girl. "Let her know that they's no chain on anybody, and, if she wants to findBill Gregg, all she's got to do is go across the street. Youunderstand?"

"But, even if I were to tell her, how could she go, Ronicky Doone, whenshe's watched?"

"If she can't make a start and get to a man that loves her and iswaiting for her, right across the street, she ain't worth worryingabout, " said Ronicky sternly. "Do we go this way?"

She hurried before them. "You've waited too long--you've waited toolong!" she kept whispering in her terror, as she led them through thedoor, paused to turn out the light behind her, and then conducted themdown a passage like that on the other side of the treasure chamber. 

It was all deadly black and deadly silent, but the rustling of thegirl's dress, as she hurried before them, was their guide. And alwaysher whisper came back: "Hurry! Hurry! I fear it is too late!"

Suddenly they were climbing up a narrow flight of steps. They stoodunder the starlight in a back yard, with houses about them on all sides. 

"Go down that alley, and you will be on the street, " said the girl. "Down that alley, and then hurry--run--find the first taxi. Will you dothat?"

"We'll sure go, and we'll wait for Caroline Smith--and you, too!"

"Don't talk madness! Why will you stay? You risk everything foryourselves and for me!"

Jerry Smith was already tugging at Ronicky's arm to draw him away, butthe Westerner was stubbornly pressing back to the girl. He had her handand would not leave it. 

"If you don't show up, lady, " he said, "I'll come to find you. Youhear?"

"No, no!"

"I swear!"

"Bless you, but never venture near again. But, oh, Ronicky Doone, I wishten other men in the whole world could be half so generous and wild asyou!" Suddenly her hand was slipped from his, and she was gone into theshadows. 

Down the alley went Jerry Smith, but he returned in an agony of dread tofind that Ronicky Doone was still running here and there, in a blindconfusion, probing the shadowy corners of the yard in search of thegirl. 

"Come off, you wild man, " said Jerry. "They'll be on our heels anyminute--they may be waiting for us now, down the alley--come off, idiot, quick!"

"If I thought they was a chance of finding her I'd stay, " declaredRonicky, shaking his head bitterly. "Whether you and me live, don'tcount beside a girl like that. Getting soot on one tip of her fingermight mean more'n whether you or me die. "

"Maybe, maybe, " said the other, "but answer that tomorrow; right now, let's start to make sure of ourselves, and we can come back to find herlater. "

Ronicky Doone, submitting partly to the force and partly to thepersuasion of his friend, turned reluctantly and followed him down thealley. 

Chapter Twenty-two

_Mark Makes a Move_

Passing hurriedly out of the cloakroom, a little later, Ruth metSimonds, the lieutenant of Frederic Fernand, in the passage. He was aratfaced little man, with a furtive smile. Not an unpleasant smile, butit was continually coming and going, as if he wished earnestly to winthe favor of the men before him, but greatly doubted his ability to doso. Ruth Tolliver, knowing his genius for the cards, knowing his coldand unscrupulous soul, detested him heartily. 

When she saw his eyes flicker up and down the hall she hesitated. Obviously he wished to speak with her, and obviously he did not wish tobe seen in the act. As she paused he stepped to her, his face suddenlyset with determination. 

"Watch John Mark, " he whispered. "Don't trust him. He suspectseverything!"

"What? Everything about what?" she asked. 

Simonds gazed at her for a moment with a singular expression. There wereconjoined cynicism, admiration, doubt, and fear in his glance. But, instead of speaking again, he bowed and slipped away into the open hall. 

She heard him call, and she heard Fernand's oily voice make answer. Andat that she shivered. 

What had Simonds guessed? How, under heaven, did he know where she hadgone when she left the gaming house? Or did he know? Had he not merelyguessed? Perhaps he had been set on by Fernand or Mark to entangle andconfuse her?

There remained, out of all this confusion of guesswork, a grim feelingthat Simonds did indeed know, and that, for the first time in his life, perhaps, he was doing an unbought, a purely generous thing. 

She remembered, now, how often Simonds had followed her with his eyes, how often his face had lighted when she spoke even casually to him. Yes, there might be a reason for Simonds' generosity. But that implied thathe knew fairly well what John Mark himself half guessed. The thoughtthat she was under the suspicion of Mark himself was terrible to her. 

She drew a long breath and advanced courageously into the gaming rooms. 

The first thing she saw was Fernand hurrying a late comer toward thetables, laughing and chatting as he went. She shuddered at the sight ofhim. It was strange that he, who had, a moment before, in the verycellar of that house, been working to bring about the death of two men, should now be immaculate, self-possessed. 

A step farther and she saw John Mark sitting at a console table, withhis back to the room and a cup of tea before him. That was, in fact, hisfavorite drink at all hours of the day or night. To see Fernand was badenough, but to see the master mind of all the evil that passed aroundher was too much. The girl inwardly thanked Heaven that his back wasturned and started to pass him as softly as possible. 

"Just a minute, Ruth, " he called, as she was almost at the door of theroom. 

For a moment there was a frantic impulse in her to bolt like a foolishchild afraid of the dark. In the next apartment were light and warmthand eager faces and smiles and laughter, and here, behind her, was thevery spirit of darkness calling her back. After an imperceptiblehesitation she turned. 

Mark had not turned in his chair, but it was easy to discover how he hadknown of her passing. A small oval mirror, fixed against the wall beforehim, had shown her image. How much had it betrayed, she wondered, of herguiltily stealthy pace? She went to him and found that he was leisurelyand openly examining her in the glass, as she approached, his chinresting on one hand, his thin face perfectly calm, his eyes hazy withcontent. It was a habit of his to regard her like a picture, but she hadnever become used to it; she was always disconcerted by it, as she wasat this moment. 

He rose, of course, when she was beside him, and asked her to sit down. 

"But I've hardly touched a card, " she said. "This isn't veryprofessional, you know, wasting a whole evening. "

She was astonished to see him flush to the roots of his hair. His voiceshook. "Sit down, please. "

She obeyed, positively inert with surprise. 

"Do you think I keep you at this detestable business because I want themoney?" he asked. "Dear Heaven! Ruth, is that what you think of me?"Fortunately, before she could answer, he went on: "No, no, no! I havewanted to make you a free and independent being, my dear, and that iswhy I have put you through the most dangerous and exacting school in theworld. You understand?"

"I think I do, " she replied falteringly. 

"But not entirely. Let me pour you some tea? No?"

He sighed, as he blew forth the smoke of a cigarette. "But you don'tunderstand entirely, " he continued, "and you must. Go back to the olddays, when you knew nothing of the world but me. Can you remember?"

"Yes, yes!"

"Then you certainly recall a time when, if I had simply givendirections, you would have been mine, Ruth. I could have married you themoment you became a woman. Is that true?" "Yes, " she whispered, "that isperfectly true. " The coldness that passed over her taught her for thefirst time how truly she dreaded that marriage which had been postponed, but which inevitably hung over her head. 

"But I didn't want such a wife, " continued John Mark. "You would havebeen an undeveloped child, really; you would never have grown up. Nomatter what they say, something about a woman is cut off at the rootwhen she marries. Certainly, if she had not been free before, she is aslave if she marries a man with a strong will. And I have a strong will, Ruth--very strong!"

"Very strong, John, " she whispered again. He smiled faintly, as if therewere less of what he wanted in that second use of the name. He went on:"So you see, I faced a problem. I must and would marry you. There wasnever any other woman born who was meant for me. So much so good. But, if I married you before you were wise enough to know me, you would havebecome a slave, shrinking from me, yielding to me, incapable of lovingme. No, I wanted a free and independent creature as my wife; I wanted apartnership, you see. Put you into the world, then, and let you see menand women? No, I could not do that in the ordinary way. I have had toshow you the hard and bad side of life, because I am, in many ways, ahard and bad man myself!"

He said it, almost literally, through his teeth. His face was fierce, defying her--his eyes were wistful, entreating her not to agree withhim. Such a sudden rush of pity for the man swept over her that she putout her hand and pressed his. He looked down at her hand for a moment, and she felt his fingers trembling under that gentle pressure. 

"I understand more now, " she said slowly, "than I have ever understoodbefore. But I'll never understand entirely. "

"A thing that's understood entirely is despised, " he said, with acareless sweep of his hand. "A thing that is understood is not feared. Iwish to be feared, not to make people cower, but to make them know whenI come, and when I go. Even love is nothing without a seasoning of fear. For instance"--he flushed as the torrent of his speech swept him into acommittal of himself--"I am afraid of you, dear girl. Do you know what Ihave done with the money you've won?"

"Tell me, " she said curiously, and, at the same time, she glanced inwonder, as a servant passed softly across the little room. Was it notstranger than words could tell that such a man as John Mark should besitting in this almost public place and pouring his soul out into theear of a girl?

"I shall tell you, " said Mark, his voice softening. "I have contributedhalf of it to charity. "

Her lips, compressed with doubt, parted in wonder. "Charity!" sheexclaimed. 

"And the other half, " he went on, "I deposited in a bank to the creditof a fictitious personality. That fictitious personality is, in fleshand blood, Ruth Tolliver with a new name. You understand? I have only tohand you the bank book with the list of deposits, and you can step outof this Tolliver personality and appear in a new part of the world asanother being. Do you see what it means? If, at the last, you find youcannot marry me, my dear, you are provided for. Not out of my charity, which would be bitter to you, but out of your own earnings. And, lestyou should be horrified at the thought of living on your earnings at thegaming table, I have thrown bread on the waters, dear Ruth. For everydollar you have in the bank you have given another to charity, and both, I hope, have borne interest for you!"

His smile faded a little, as she murmured, with her glance going pasthim: "Then I am free? Free, John?"

"Whenever you wish!"

"Not that I ever shall wish, but to know that I am not chained, that isthe wonderful thing. " She looked directly at him again: "I never dreamedthere was so much fineness in you, John Mark, I never dreamed it, but Ishould have!"

"Now I have been winning Caroline to the game, " he went on, "and she isbeginning to love it. In another year, or six months, trust me to havecompletely filled her with the fever. But now enters the mischief-makerin the piece, a stranger, an ignorant outsider. This incredible manarrives and, in a few days, having miraculously run Caroline to earth, goes on and brings Caroline face to face with her lover, teaches JerrySmith that I am his worst enemy, gets enough money to pay off his debtto me, and convinces him that I can never use my knowledge of his crimeto jail him, because I don't dare bring the police too close to my ownrather explosive record. "

"I saw them both here!" said the girl. She wondered how much he guessed, and she saw his keen eyes probe her with a glance. But heringenuousness, if it did not disarm him, at least dulled the edge of hissuspicions. 

"He was here, and the trap was laid here, and he slipped through it. Gotaway through a certain room which Fernand would give a million to keepsecret. At any rate the fellow has shown that he is slippery and has asting, too. He sent a bullet a fraction of an inch past Fernand's head, at one point in the little story. 

"In short, the price is too high. What I want is to secure CarolineSmith from the inside. I want you to go to her, to persuade her to goaway with you on a trip. Take her to the Bermudas, or to Havana--anyplace you please. The moment the Westerner thinks his lady is runningaway from him of her own volition he'll throw up his hands and curse hisluck and go home. They have that sort of pride on the other side of theRockies. Will you go back tonight, right now, and persuade Caroline togo with you?"

She bowed her head under the shock of it. Ronicky Doone had begged herto send Caroline Smith to meet her lover. Now the counterattackfollowed. 

"Do you think she'd listen?"

"Yes, tell her that the one thing that will save the head of Bill Greggis for her to go away, otherwise I'll wipe the fool off the map. Betterstill, tell her that Gregg of his own free will has left New York andgiven up the chase. Tell her you want to console her with a trip. She'llbe sad and glad and flattered, all in the same moment, and go along withyou without a word. Will you try, Ruth?"

"I suppose you would have Bill Gregg removed--if he continued anuisance?"

"Not a shadow of a doubt. Will you do your best?"

She rose. "Yes, " said the girl. Then she managed to smile at him. "Ofcourse I'll do my best. I'll go back right now. "

He took her arm to the door of the room. "Thank Heaven, " he said, "thatI have one person in whom I can trust without question--one who needs nobribing or rewards, but works to please me. Good-by, my dear. "

He watched her down the hall and then turned and went through room afterroom to the rear of the house. There he rapped on a door in a peculiarmanner. It was opened at once, and Harry Morgan appeared before him. 

"A rush job, Harry, " he said. "A little shadowing. "

Harry jerked his cap lower over his eyes. "Gimme the smell of the trail, I'm ready, " he said. 

"Ruth Tolliver has just left the house. Follow her. She'll probably gohome. She'll probably talk with Caroline Smith. Find a way of listening. If you hear anything that seems wrong to you--anything about Carolineleaving the house alone, for instance, telephone to me at once. Now goand work, as you never worked for me before. "

Chapter Twenty-three

_Caroline takes Command_

Ruth left the gaming house of Frederic Fernand entirely convinced thatshe must do as John Mark had told her--work for him as she had neverworked before. The determination made her go home to Beekman Place asfast as a taxicab would whirl her along. 

It was not until she had climbed to Caroline Smith's room and opened thedoor that her determination faltered. For there she saw the girl lyingon her bed weeping. And it seemed to the poor, bewildered brain of RuthTolliver, as if the form of Ronicky Doone, passionate and eager asbefore, stood at her side and begged her again to send Caroline Smithacross the street to a lifelong happiness, and she could do it. ThoughMark had ordered the girl to be confined to her room until furthercommands were given on the subject, no one in the house would think ofquestioning Ruth Tolliver, if she took the girl downstairs to the streetand told her to go on her way. 

She closed the door softly and, going to the bed, touched the shoulderof Caroline. The poor girl sat up slowly and turned a stained andswollen face to Ruth. If there was much to be pitied there was somethingto be laughed at, also. Ruth could not forbear smiling. But Caroline wasclutching at her hands. 

"He's changed his mind?" she asked eagerly. "He's sent you to tell methat he's changed his mind, Ruth? Oh, you've persuaded him to it--likean angel--I know you have!"

Ruth Tolliver freed herself from the reaching hands, moistened the endof a towel in the bathroom and began to remove the traces of tears fromthe face of Caroline Smith. That face was no longer flushed, but growingpale with excitement and hope. 

"It's true?" she kept asking. "It is true, Ruth?"

"Do you love him as much as that?"

"More than I can tell you--so much more!"

"Try to tell me then, dear. "

Talking of her love affair began to brighten the other girl, and now shemanaged a wan smile. "His letters were very bad. But, between the lines, I could read so much real manhood, such simple honesty, such a heart, such a will to trust! Ruth, are you laughing at me?"

"No, no, far from that! It's a thrilling thing to hear, my dear. "

For she was remembering that in another man there might be found thesesame qualities. Not so much simplicity, perhaps, but to make up for it, a great fire of will and driving energy. 

"But I didn't actually know that I was in love. Even when I made thetrip West and wrote to him to meet the train on my return--even then Iwas only guessing. When he didn't appear at the station I went cold andmade up my mind that I would never think of him again. "

"But when you saw him in the street, here?"

"John Mark had prepared me and hardened me against that meeting, and Iwas afraid even to think for myself. But, when Ronicky Doone--blesshim!--talked to me in your room, I knew what Bill Gregg must be, sincehe had a friend who would venture as much for him as Ronicky Doone did. It all came over me in a flash. I did love him--I did, indeed!"

"Yes, yes, " whispered Ruth Tolliver, nodding and smiling faintly. "Iremember how he stood there and talked to you. He was like a man onfire. No wonder that a spark caught in you, Caroline. He--he's a--veryfine-looking fellow, don't you think, Caroline?"

"Bill Gregg? Yes, indeed. "

"I mean Ronicky. "

"Of course! Very handsome!"

There was something in the voice of Caroline that made Ruth look downsharply to her face, but the girl was clever enough to mask herexcitement and delight. 

"Afterward, when you think over what he has said, it isn't a great deal, but at the moment he seems to know a great deal--about what's going oninside one, don't you think, Caroline?"

These continual appeals for advice, appeals from the infallible RuthTolliver, set the heart of Caroline beating. There was most certainlysomething in the wind. 

"I think he does, " agreed Caroline, masking her eyes. "He has a way, when he looks at you, of making you feel that he isn't thinking ofanything else in the world but you. "

"Does he have that same effect on every one?" asked Ruth. She added, after a moment of thought, "Yes, I suppose it's just a habit of his. Iwish I knew. "

"Why?" queried Caroline, unable to refrain from the stinging littlequestion. 

"Oh, for no good reason--just that he's an odd character. In my work, you know, one has to study character. Ronicky Doone is a different sortof man, don't you think?"

"Very different, dear. "

Then a great inspiration came to Caroline. Ruth was a key which, sheknew, could unlock nearly any door in the house of John Mark. 

"Do you know what we are going to do?" she asked gravely, rising. 

"Well?"

"We're going to open that door together, and we're going down thestairs--together. "

"Together? But we--Don't you know John Mark has given orders--"

"That I'm not to leave the room. What difference does that make? Theywon't dare stop us if you are with me, leading the way. "

"Caroline, are you mad? When I come back--"

"You're not coming back. "

"Not coming back!"

"No, you're going on with me!"

She took Ruth by the arms and turned her until the light struck into hereyes. Ruth Tolliver, aghast at this sudden strength in one who hadalways been a meek follower, obeyed without resistance. 

"But where?" she demanded. 

"Where I'm going. "

"What?"

"To Ronicky Doone, my dear. Don't you see?"

The insistence bewildered Ruth Tolliver. She felt herself drivenirresistibly forward, with or without her own will. 

"Caroline, " she protested, trying feebly to free herself from thecommanding hands and eyes of her companion, "are you quite mad? Go tohim? Why should I? How can I?"

"Not as I'm going to Bill Gregg, with my heart in my hands, but to askRonicky Doone--bless him!--to take you away somewhere, so that you canbegin a new life. Isn't that simple?"

"Ask charity of a stranger?"

"You know he isn't a stranger, and you know it isn't charity. He'll behappy. He's the kind that's happy when he's being of use to others?"

"Yes, " answered Ruth Tolliver, "of course he is. "

"And you'd trust him?"

"To the end of the world. But to leave--"

"Ruth, you've kept cobwebs before your eyes so long that you don't seewhat's happening around you. John Mark hypnotizes you. He makes youthink that the whole world is bad, that we are simply making capital outof our crimes. As a matter of fact, the cold truth is that he has mademe a thief, Ruth, and he has made you something almost as bad--agambler!"

The follower had become the leader, and she was urging Ruth Tolliverslowly to the door. Ruth was protesting--she could not throw herself onthe kindness of Ronicky Doone--it could not be done. It would beliterally throwing herself at his head. But here the door opened, andshe allowed herself to be led out into the hall. They had not made morethan half a dozen steps down its dim length when the guard hurriedtoward them. 

"Talk to him, " whispered Caroline Smith. "He's come to stop me, andyou're the only person who can make him let me pass on!"

The guard hurriedly came up to them. "Sorry, " he said. "Got an ideayou're going downstairs, Miss Smith. "

"Yes, " she said faintly. 

The fellow grinned. "Not yet. You'll stay up here till the chief givesthe word. And I got to ask you to step back into your room, and stepquick. " His voice grew harsh, and he came closer. "He told me straight, you're not to come out. "

Caroline had shrunk back, and she was on the verge of turning when thearm of Ruth was passed strongly around her shoulders and stayed her. 

"She's going with me, " she told John Mark's bulldog. "Does that make adifference to you?"

He ducked his head and grinned feebly in his anxiety. "Sure it makes adifference. You go where you want, any time you want, but this--"

"I say she's going with me, and I'm responsible for her. "

She urged Caroline forward, and the latter made a step, only to findthat she was directly confronted by the guard. 

"I got my orders, " he said desperately to Ruth. 

"Do you know who I am?" she asked hotly. 

"I know who you are, " he answered, "and, believe me, I would not startbothering you none, but I got to keep this lady back. I got the orders. "

"They're old orders, " insisted Ruth Tolliver, "and they have beenchanged. "

"Not to my knowing, " replied the other, less certain in his manner. 

Ruth seized the critical moment to say: "Walk on, Caroline. If he blocksyour way--" She did not need to finish the sentence, for, as Carolinestarted on, the guard slunk sullenly to one side of the corridor. 

"It ain't my doings, " he said. "But they got two bosses in this joint, and one of them is a girl. How can a gent have any idea which way heought to step in a pinch? Go on, Miss Smith, but you'll be answeredfor!"

They hardly heard the last of these words, as they turned down thestairway, hurrying, but not fast enough to excite the suspicion of theman behind them. 

"Oh, Ruth, " whispered Caroline Smith. "Oh, Ruth!"

"It was close, " said Ruth Tolliver, "but we're through. And, now thatI'm about to leave it, I realize how I've hated this life all theseyears. I'll never stop thanking you for waking me up to it, Caroline. "

They reached the floor of the lower hall, and a strange thought came toRuth. She had hurried home to execute the bidding of John Mark. She hadleft it, obeying the bidding of Ronicky Doone. 

They scurried to the front door. As they opened it the sharp gust ofnight air blew in on them, and they heard the sound of a man running upthe steps. In a moment the dim hall light showed on the slender form andthe pale face of John Mark standing before them. 

Caroline felt the start of Ruth Tolliver. For her part she was on theverge of collapse, but a strong pressure from the hand of her companiontold her that she had an ally in the time of need. 

"Tut tut!" Mark was saying, "what's this? How did Caroline get out ofher room--and with you, Ruth?"

"It's idiotic to keep her locked up there all day and all night, inweather like this, " said Ruth, with a perfect calm that restoredCaroline's courage almost to the normal. "When I talked to her thisevening I made up my mind that I'd take her out for a walk. "

"Well, " replied John Mark, "that might not be so bad. Let's step insideand talk it over for a moment. "

They retreated, and he entered and clicked the door behind him. "Themain question is, where do you intend to walk?"

"Just in the street below the house. "

"Which might not lead you across to the house on the other side?"

"Certainly not! I shall be with her. "

"But suppose both of you go into that house, and I lose two birdsinstead of one? What of that, my clever Ruth?"

She knew at once, by something in his voice rather than his words, thathe had managed to learn the tenor of the talk in Caroline's room. Sheasked bluntly: "What are you guessing at?"

"Nothing. I only speak of what I know. No single pair of ears is enoughfor a busy man. I have to hire help, and I get it. Very effective help, too, don't you agree?"

"Eavesdropping!" exclaimed Ruth bitterly. "Well--it's true, John Mark. You sent me to steal her from her lover, and I've tried to steal her forhim in the end. Do you know why? Because she was able to show me what ahappy love might mean to a woman. She showed me that, and she showed mehow much courage love had given her. So I began to guess a good manythings, and, among the rest, I came to the conclusion that I could nevertruly love you, John Mark. 

"I've spoken quickly, " she went on at last. "It isn't that I have fearedyou all the time--I haven't been playing a part, John, on my word. Only--tonight I learned something new. Do you see?"

"Heaven be praised, " said John Mark, "that we all have the power oflearning new things, now and again. I congratulate you. Am I to supposethat Caroline was your teacher?"

He turned from her and faced Caroline Smith, and, though he smiled onher, there was a quality in the smile that shriveled her very soul withfear. No matter what he might say or do this evening to establishhimself in the better graces of the girl he was losing, his malice wasnot dead. That she knew. 

"She was my teacher, " answered Ruth steadily, "because she showed me, John, what a marvelous thing it is to be free. You understand that allthe years I have been with you I have never been free?"

"Not free?" he asked, the first touch of emotion showing in his voice. "Not free, my dear? Was there ever the least wish of yours since youwere a child that I did not gratify? Not one, Ruth; not one, surely, ofwhich I am conscious!"

"Because I had no wishes, " she answered slowly, "that were not suggestedby something that you liked or disliked. You were the starting point ofall that I desired. I was almost afraid to think until I became surethat you approved of my thinking. "

"That was long ago, " he said gravely. "Since those old days I see youhave changed greatly. "

"Because of the education you gave me, " she answered. 

"Yes, yes, that was the great mistake. I begin to see. Heaven, one mightsay, gave you to me. I felt that I must improve on the gift of Heavenbefore I accepted you. There was my fault. For that I must pay the greatpenalty. Kismet! And now, what is it you wish?"

"To leave at once. "

"A little harsh, but necessary, if you will it. There is the door, freeto you. The change of identity of which I spoke to you is easilyarranged. I have only to take you to the bank and that is settled. Isthere anything else?"

"Only one thing--and that is not much. "

"Very good. "

"You have given so much, " she ran on eagerly, "that you will give onething more--out of the goodness of that really big heart of yours, John, dear!"

He winced under that pleasantly tender word. 

And she said: "I want to take Caroline with me--to freedom and the manshe loves. That is really all!"

The lean fingers of John Mark drummed on the back of the chair, while hesmiled down on her, an inexplicable expression on his face. 

"Only that?" he asked. "My dear, how strange you women really are! Afterall these years of study I should have thought that you would, at least, have partially comprehended me. I see that is not to be. But try tounderstand that I divide with a nice distinction the affairs ofsentiment and the affairs of business. There is only one element in myworld of sentiment--that is you. Therefore, ask what you want and takeit for yourself; but for Caroline, that is an entirely different matter. No, Ruth, you may take what you will for yourself, but for her, for anyother living soul, not a penny, not a cent will I give. Can youcomprehend it? Is it clear? As for giving her freedom, nothing underHeaven could persuade me to it!"

Chapter Twenty-four

_The Ultimate Sacrifice_

She stared at him, as the blow fell, and then her glance turned slowlyto Caroline who had uttered a sharp cry and sunk into a chair. 

"Help me, Ruth, " she implored pitifully. "No other person in the worldcan help me but you!"

"Do you see that, " asked Ruth quietly of John Mark, "and still itdoesn't move you?"

"Not a hairbreadth, my dear. "

"But isn't it absurd? Suppose I have my freedom, and I tell the policethat in this house a girl against her will--"

"Tush, my dear! You really do not know me at all. Do you think they canreach me? She may be a hundred miles away before you have spoken tenwords to the authorities. "

"But I warn you that all your holds on her are broken. She knows thatyou have no holds over her brother. She knows that Ronicky Doone hasbroken them all--that Jerry is free of you!"

"Ronicky Doone, " said Mark, his face turning gray, "is a talented man. No doubt of it; his is a very peculiar and incisive talent, I admit. But, though he has broken all the old holds, there are ways of findingnew ones. If you leave now, I can even promise you, my dear, that, before the next day dawns, the very soul of Caroline will be a pawn inmy hands. Do you doubt it? Such an exquisitely tender, such a delicatesoul as Caroline, can you doubt that I can form invisible bonds whichwill hold her even when she is a thousand miles away from me? Tush, mydear; think again, and you will think better of my ability. "

"Suppose, " Ruth said, "I were to offer to stay?"

He bowed. "You tempt me, with such overwhelming generosity, to becomeeven more generous myself and set her free at once. But, alas, I amessentially a practical man. If you will stay with me, Ruth, if youmarry me at once, why, then indeed this girl is as free as the wind. Otherwise I should be a fool. You see, my dear, I love you so that Imust have you by fair means or foul, but I cannot put any chain upon youexcept your own word. I confess it, you see, even before this poor girl, if she is capable of understanding, which I doubt. But speak again--doyou make the offer?"

She hesitated, and he went on: "Be careful. I have had you once, and Ihave lost you, it seems. If I have you again there is no power inyou--no power between earth and heaven to take you from me a secondtime. Give yourself to me with a word, and I shall make you mineforever. Then Caroline shall go free--free as the wind--to her lover, mydear, who is waiting. "

He made no step toward her, and he kept his voice smooth and clear. Hadhe done otherwise he knew that she would have shrunk. She looked to him, she looked to Caroline Smith. The latter had suddenly raised her headand thrown out her hands, with an unutterable appeal in her eyes. Atthat mute appeal Ruth Tolliver surrendered. 

"It's enough, " she said. "I think there would be no place for me afterall. What could I do in the world except what you've taught me to do?No, let Caroline go freely, and I give my--"

"Stop!"

He checked her with his raised hand, and his eyes blazed and glitteredin the dead whiteness of his face. "Don't give me your word, my dear. Idon't want that chain to bind you. There might come a time when somepower arose strong enough to threaten to take you from me. Then I wantto show you that I don't need your promise. I can hold you for myself. Only come to me and tell me simply that you will be mine if you can. Will you do that?"

She crossed the room slowly and stood before him. "I will do that, " shesaid faintly, half closing her eyes. She had come so close that, if hewilled, he could have taken her in his arms. She nerved herself againstit; then she felt her hand taken, raised and touched lightly againsttrembling lips. When she stepped back she knew that the decisive momentof her life had been passed. 

"You are free to go, " said John Mark to Caroline. "Therefore don't wait. Go at once. "

"Ruth!" whispered the girl. 

Ruth Tolliver turned away, and the movement brought Caroline beside her, with a cry of pain. "Is it what I think?" she asked. "Are you making thesacrifice all for me? You don't really care for him, Ruth, and--"

"Caroline!" broke in John Mark. 

She turned at the command of that familiar voice, as if she had beenstruck with a whip. He had raised the curtain of the front window besidethe door and was pointing up and across the street. 

"I see the window of Gregg's room, " he said. "A light has just appearedin it. I suppose he is waiting. But, if you wish to go, your time isshort--very short!"

An infinite threat was behind the calmness of the voice. She could onlysay to Ruth: "I'll never forget. " Then she fled down the hall andthrough the door, and the two within heard the sharp patter of herheels, as she ran down to the street. 

It was freedom for Caroline, and Ruth, lifting her eyes, looked into theface of the man she was to marry. She could have held out, she felt, hadit not been for the sound of those departing footsteps, running soblithely toward a lifetime of happiness. Even as it was she made herselfhold out. Then a vague astonishment came to clear her mind. There was nojoy in the face of John Mark, only a deep and settled pain. 

"You see, " he said, with a smile of anguish, "I have done it. I havebought the thing I love, and that, you know, is the last and deepestdamnation. If another man had told me that I was capable of such athing, I'd have killed him on the spot. But now I have done it!"

"I think I'll go up to my room, " she answered, her eyes on the floor. She made herself raise them to his. "Unless you wish to talk to melonger?"

She saw him shudder. 

"If you can help it, " he said, "don't make me see the brand I have puton you. Don't, for Heaven's sake, cringe to me if you can help it. "

"Very well, " she said. 

He struck his clenched hand against his face. "It's the price, " hedeclared through his teeth, "and I accept it. " He spoke more to himselfthan to her, and then directly: "Will you let me walk up with you?"

"Yes. "

He took her passive arm. They went slowly, slowly up the stairs, for ateach landing it seemed her strength gave out, and she had to pause for abrief rest; when she paused he spoke with difficulty, but with his heartin every word. 

"You remember the old Greek fable, Ruth? The story about all the painsand torments which flew out of Pandora's box, and how Hope came outlast--that blessed Hope--and healed the wounds? Here, a moment after theblow has fallen, I am hoping again like a fool. I am hoping that I shallteach you to forget; or, if I cannot teach you to forget, than I shalleven make you glad of what you have done tonight. "

The door closed on her, and she was alone. Raising her head she foundshe was looking straight across the street to the lighted windows of therooms of Ronicky Doone and Bill Gregg. While she watched she saw thesilhouette of a man and woman running to each other, saw them clasped ineach other's arms. Ruth dropped to her knees and buried her face in herhands. 

Chapter Twenty-five

_Unhappy Freedom_

Once out in the street Caroline had cast one glance of terror over hershoulder at the towering facade of the house of John Mark, then shefled, as fast as her feet would carry her, straight across the streetand up the steps of the rooming house and frantically up the stairs, apanic behind her. 

Presently she was tapping hurriedly and loudly on a door, while, withher head turned, she watched for the coming of some swift-avengingfigure from behind. John Mark had given her up, but it was impossiblefor John Mark to give up anything. When would he strike? That was theonly question. 

Then the door opened. The very light that poured out into the dim hallwas like the reach of a friendly hand, and there was Ronicky Doonelaughing for pure joy--and there was Bill Gregg's haggard face, as if hesaw a ghost. 

"I told you, Bill, and here she is!"

After that she forgot Ronicky Doone and the rest of the world exceptGregg, as he took her in his arms and asked over and over: "How did itcome about? How did it come about?"

And over and over she answered: "It was Ronicky, Bill. We owe everythingto him and Ruth Tolliver. "

This brought from Ronicky a sudden question: "And what of her? What ofRuth Tolliver? She wouldn't come?"

It pricked the bubble of Caroline's happiness, that question. Staring atthe frowning face of Ronicky Doone her heart for a moment misgave her. How could she tell the truth? How could she admit her cowardice whichhad accepted Ruth's great sacrifice?

"No, " she said at last, "Ruth stayed. "

"Talk about that afterward, Ronicky, " pleaded Bill Gregg. "I got about amillion things to say to Caroline. "

"I'm going to talk now, " said Ronicky gravely. "They's something queerabout the way Caroline said that. Will you let me ask you a few morequestions?"

"Won't you wait?" asked Caroline, in an agony of remorse and shame. "Won't you wait till the morning?"

Ronicky Doone walked up and down the room for a moment. He had no wishto break in upon the long delayed happiness of these two. While he pacedhe heard Bill Gregg saying that they must start at once and put threethousand miles between them and that devil, John Mark; and he heardCaroline say that there was no longer anything to fear--the claws of thedevil had been trimmed, and he would not reach after them--he hadpromised. At that Ronicky whirled sharply on them again. 

"What made Mark change his mind about you?" he asked. "He isn't the sortto change his mind without a pretty good reason. What bought him off?Nothing but a price would change him, I guess. "

And she had to admit: "It was Ruth. "

"She paid the price?" he asked harshly. "How, Caroline?"

"She promised to marry him, Ronicky. "

The bitter truth was coming now, and she cringed as she spoke it. Thetall body of Ronicky Doone was trembling with excitement. 

"She made that promise so that you could go free, Caroline?"

"No, no!" exclaimed Bill Gregg. 

"It's true, " said the girl. "We were about to leave together when JohnMark stopped us. "

"Ruth was coming with you?" asked Ronicky. 

"Yes. "

"And when Mark stopped you she offered herself in exchange for yourfreedom?"

"Y-yes!"

Both she and Bill Gregg looked apprehensively at the dark face ofRonicky Doone, where a storm was gathering. 

But he restrained his anger with a mighty effort. "She was going to cutaway from that life and start over--is that straight, Caroline?"

"Yes. "

"Get the police, Ronicky, " said Bill Gregg. "They sure can't hold nowoman agin' her will in this country. "

"Don't you see that it is her will?" asked Ronicky Doone darkly. "Ain'tshe made a bargain? Don't you think she's ready and willing to live upto it? She sure is, son, and she'll go the limit to do what she's saidshe'll do. You stay here--I'll go out and tackle the job. "

"Then I go, too, " said Bill Gregg stoutly. "You been through enough forme. Here's where I go as far as you go. I'm ready when you're ready, Ronicky. "

It was so just an offer that even Caroline dared not cry out against it, but she sat with her hands clasped close together, her eyes beggingRonicky to let the offer go. Ronicky Doone nodded slowly. 

"I hoped you'd say that, Bill, " he said. "But I'll tell you what: youstay here for a while, and I'll trot down and take a look around and tryto figure out what's to be done. Can't just walk up and rap at the frontdoor of the house, you know. And I can't go in the way I went before. Nodoubt about that. I got to step light. So let me go out and look around, will you, Bill? Then I'll come back and tell you what I've decided. "

Once in the street Ronicky looked dubiously across at the oppositehouse. He realized that more than an hour had passed since Caroline hadleft John Mark's house. What had happened to Ruth in that hour? Thefront of the house was lighted in two or three windows, but those lightscould tell him nothing. From the inside of the house he could locateRuth's room again, but from the outside it was impossible for him to doit. 

The whole house, of course, was thoroughly guarded against his attack, for attack they knew he would. The only question was from what angle hewould deliver his assault. In that case, of course, the correct thingwas to find the unexpected means. But how could he outguess a band oftrained criminals? They would have foreseen far greater subtleties thanany he could attempt. They would be so keen that the best way to takethem by surprise might be simply to step up to the house, ring the doorbell and enter, if the door were opened. 

The idea intrigued him at once. They might be, and no doubt were, guarding every obscure cellar window, every skylight. To trick them wasimpossible, but it was always possible to bluff any man--even John Markand his followers. 

Straight across the street marched Ronicky Doone and up the steps of theopposite house and rang the bell--not a timid ring, but two sharppressures, such as would announce a man in a hurry, a brisk man who didnot wish to be delayed. 

He took only one precaution, pulling his hat down so that the blackshadow of the brim would fall like a robber's mask across the upper partof his face. Then he waited, as a man both hurried and certain, turninga little away from the door, at an angle which still more effectuallyconcealed him, while he tapped impatiently with one foot. 

Presently the door opened, after he made certain that someone had lookedout at him from the side window. How much had they seen? How much hadthey guessed as to the identity of this night visitor? The softness ofthe opening of the door and the whisper of the wind, as it rushed intothe hall beyond, were like a hiss of threatening secrecy. And then, fromthe shadow of that meager opening a voice was saying: "Who's there?"

The very caution, however, reassured Ronicky Doone. Had they suspectedthat it was he they would either have kept the door definitely closed, or else they would have flung it open and boldly invited him in. 

"I want to see Harry Morgan--quick!" he said and stepped close to thedoor. 

At his bold approach the door was closed like the winking of an eye, until it was barely an inch ajar. 

"Keep back!" came the warning through this small opening. "Keep clear, bo!"

"Damnation!" exclaimed Ronicky. "What's the idea? I want Harry, I tellyou. "

"Harry ain't here. "

"Just hand me that piece of paper over there, and I'll write out themessage, " said Ronicky, pointing to the little table just beyond thedoorman. The latter turned with a growl, and the moment he was halfwayaround Ronicky Doone sprang in. His right arm fastened around the headof the unlucky warder and, passing down to his throat, crushed it in astrangle hold. His other hand, darting out in strong precision, caughtthe right arm of the warder at the wrist and jerked it back between hisshoulders. In an instant he was effectively gagged and bound by thosetwo movements, and Ronicky Doone, pausing for an instant to make sure ofhimself, heard footsteps in the hall above. 

It was too late to do what he had hoped, yet he must take his prize outof the way. For that purpose he half carried, half dragged his victimthrough the doorway and into the adjoining room. There he deposited himon the floor, as near death as life. Relaxing his hold on the man'sthroat, he whipped out his Colt and tucked the cold muzzle under thechin of the other. 

"Now don't stir, " he said; "don't whisper, don't move a muscle. Partner, I'm Ronicky Doone. Now talk quick. Where's Ruth Tolliver?"

"Upstairs. "

"In her room?"

"Yes. "

Ronicky started to rise, then, for there had been a slight fraction of asecond's pause before the victim answered, he changed his mind. "I oughtto smash your head open for that lie, " he said at a random guess. "Tellme straight, now, where's Ruth Tolliver?"

"How can I tell, if she ain't in her room?"

"Look, " said Ronicky Doone, "if anyone comes into the hall before you'vetold me where the girl is, you're dead, partner. That's straight, nowtalk. "

"She's with Mark. "

"And where's he?"

"He'd kill me if I tell. "

"Not if I find him before he finds you. His killing days are ended!Where's Mark and the girl? Has he run off with her?"

"Yes. "

"They're married?" asked Ronicky, feeling that it might be a wild-goosechase after all. 

"I dunno. "

"But where are they?"

"Heaven help me, then! Ill tell you. "

He began to whisper swiftly, incoherently, his voice shaking almost tosilence, as he reached the heart of his narrative. 

Chapter Twenty-six

_Hills and Sea_

The summerhouse lay in a valley between two hills; resting on the lawnbefore it Ruth Tolliver lay with her head pillowed back between herhands, and the broad brim of her straw that flopped down to shade hereyes. She could look up on either side to the sweep of grass, with thewind twinkling in it--grass that rolled smoothly up to the gentle bluesky beyond. On the one hand it was very near to her, that film of blue, but to her right the narrow, bright heads of a young poplar grove pushedup beyond the hilltop, and that made the sky fall back an immeasurabledistance. Not very much variety in that landscape, but there was aninfinite variety in the changes of the open-air silence. Overtones, allof them--but what a range!

If she found that what was immediately overhead and beside her was toobland, if she wearied of that lovely drift of clouds across the sky, then she had only to raise herself upon one elbow and look down to thebroad, white band of the earth, and the startling blue of the oceanbeyond. She was a little way up among the hills, to be sure, but, inspite of her elevation, when she looked out toward the horizon it seemedthat the sea was hollowed like a great bowl--that the horizon wave wasapt at any moment to roll in upon the beach and overwhelm her among thehills. 

Not a very great excitement for such a girl as Ruth Tolliver, to besure. Particularly when the faint crease between her eyes told of aperpetual worry and a strain under which she was now living. She wastrying to lose herself in forgetfulness, in this open, drowsy climate. 

Behind her a leisurely step came down one of the garden paths. Itbrought her to attention at once. A shadow passed across her face, andinstantly she was sitting up, alert and excited. 

John Mark sat down cross-legged beside her, a very changed John Mark, indeed. He wore white trousers and low white shoes, with a sack coat ofblue--a cool-looking man even on this sultry day. The cane, which heinsisted upon at all times, he had planted between his knees to help inthe process of lowering himself to the ground. Now he hooked the headover his shoulder, pushed back his hat and smiled at the girl. 

"Everything is finished, " he said calmly. "How well you look, Ruth--thathair of yours against the green grass. Everything is finished; thelicense and the clergyman will arrive here within the hour. "

She shrugged her shoulders. As a rule she tried at least to be politelyacquiescent, but now and then something in her revolted. But John Markwas an artist in choosing remarks and moments which should not benoticed. Apparently her silence made not even a ripple on the calmsurface of his assurance. 

He had been so perfectly diplomatic, indeed, during the whole affair, that she had come to respect and fear him more than ever. Even in thatsudden midnight departure from the house in Beekman Place, in thatunaccountable panic which made him decide to flee from the vicinity ofRonicky Doone--even in that critical moment he had made sure that therewas a proper chaperon with them. During all her years with him he hadalways taken meticulous care that she should be above the slightestbreath of suspicion--a strange thing when the work to which he hadassigned her was considered. 

"Well, " he asked, "now that you've seen, how do you like it? If youwish, we'll move today after the ceremony. It's only a temporary haltingplace, or it can be a more or less permanent home, just as you please. "

It rather amused her to listen to this deprecatory manner of speech. Ofcourse she could direct him in small matters, but in such a thing as thechoice of a residence she knew that in the end he would absolutely havehis own way. 

"I don't know, " she said. "I like silence just now. I'll stay here aslong as you're contented. "

He pressed her hand very lightly; it was the only time he had caressedher since they left New York, and his hand left hers instantly. 

"Of course, " he explained, "I'm glad to be at a distance for a time--aplace to which we can't be followed. "

"By Ronicky Doone?" Her question had sprung impulsively to her lips. 

"Exactly. " From the first he had been amazingly frank in confessing hisfear of the Westerner. "Who else in the world would I care about for aninstant? Where no other has ever crossed me once successfully, he hasdone so twice. That, you know, makes me begin to feel that my fate iswrapped up in the young devil. "

He shuddered at the thought, as if a cold wind had struck him. 

"I think you need not worry about him, " said the girl faintly. "Isuppose by this time he is in such a condition that he will never worryanother soul in the world. "

The other turned and looked at her for a long, grave moment. 

"You think he attempted to break into the house?"

"And didn't you expect the same thing? Why else did you leave New York?"

"I confess that was my idea, but I think no harm has come to him. Thechances are nine out of ten, at least, that he has not been badly hurt. "

She turned away, her hands clenched hard. 

"Oh my honor, " he insisted with some emotion. "I gave directions that, if he made an attack, he was not to be harmed more than necessary todisarm him. "

"Knowing that to disarm him would mean to kill him. "

"Not at all. After all he is not such a terrible fellow as that--not atall, my dear. A blow, a shot might have dropped him. But, unless it werefollowed by a second, he would not be killed. Single shots and singleblows rarely kill, you know. "

She nodded more hopefully, and then her eyes turned with a wide questionupon her companion. 

He answered it at once with the utmost frankness. 

"You wonder why I gave such orders when I dread Doone--when I so dreadDoone--when I so heartily want him out of my way forever? I'll tell you. If Doone were killed there would be a shadow between us at once. Notthat I believe you love him--no, that cannot be. He may have touchedyour heart, but he cannot have convinced your head, and you are equalparts of brain and soul, my dear. Therefore you cannot love him. "

She controlled the faintest of smiles at the surety of his analysis. Hecould never escape from an old conclusion that the girl must be in largepart his own product--he could never keep from attributing to her hisown motives. 

"But just suppose, " she said, "that Ronicky Doone broke into your house, forced one of your men to tell him where we are, and then followed us atonce. He would be about due to arrive now. What if all that happened?"

He smiled at her. "If all that happened, you are quite right; he wouldbe about due to arrive. I suppose, being a Westerner, that the firstthing he would do in the village would be to hire a horse to take himout here, and he would come galloping yonder, where you see that whiteroad tossing over the hills. "

"And what if he does come?" she asked. 

"Then, " said John Mark very gravely, "he will indeed be in seriousdanger. It will be the third time that he has threatened me. And thethird time--"

"You've prepared even for his coming here?" she asked, the thoughttightening the muscles of her throat. 

"When you have such a man as Ronicky Doone on your hands, " he confessed, "you have to be ready for anything. Yes, I have prepared. If he comeshe'll come by the straightest route, certain that we don't expect him. He'll run blindly into the trap. Yonder--you see where the two hillsalmost close over the road--yonder is Shorty Kruger behind the rocks, waiting and watching. A very good gunman is Shorty. Know him?"

"Yes, " she said, shuddering. "Of course I know him. "

"But even suppose that the he passes Kruger--down there in the hollow, where the road bends in toward us, you can see Lefty himself. I wiredhim to come, and there he is. "

"Lefty?" asked the girl, aghast. 

"Lefty himself, " said John Mark. "You see how much I respect RonickyDoone's fighting properties? Yes, Lefty himself, the great, theinfallible Lefty!"

She turned her back on the white road which led from the village andfaced the sea. 

"If we are down here long enough, " he said, "I'll have a little wharfbuilt inside that cove. You see? Then we can bring up a motor boat andanchor it in there. Do you know much about boats?"

"Almost nothing. "

"That's true, but we'll correct it. Between you and me, if I had tochoose between a boat and a horse I don't know which I should--"

Two sharp detonations cut off his words. While he raised a startled handfor silence they remained staring at one another, and the long, faintechoes rolled across the hills. 

"A revolver shot first, far off, " he said, "and then a rifle shot. Thatmetallic clang always means a rifle shot. "

He turned, and she turned with him. Covering their eyes from the whitelight of the sun they peered at the distant road, where, as he hadpointed out, the two hills leaned together and left a narrow footingbetween. 

"The miracle has happened, " said John Mark in a perfectly sober voice. "It is Ronicky Doone!"

Chapter Twenty-seven

_The Last Stand_

At the same instant she saw what his keener eye had discerned the momentbefore. A small trail of dust was blowing down the road, just below theplace where the two hills leaned together. Under it was the dimlydiscernible, dust-veiled form of a horseman riding at full speed. 

"Fate is against me, " said John Mark in his quiet way. "Why should thisdare-devil be destined to hunt me? I can gain nothing by his death butyour hate. And, if he succeeds in breaking through Lefty, as he hasbroken through Kruger, even then he shall win nothing. I swear it!"

As he spoke he looked at her in gloomy resolution, but the girl was onfire--fear and joy were fighting in her face. In her ecstasy she wasclinging to the man beside her. 

"Think of it--think of it!" she exclaimed. "He has done what I said hewould do. Ah, I read his mind! Ronicky Doone, Ronicky Doone, was thereever your like under the wide, wide sky? He's brushed Kruger out of hisway--"

"Not entirely, " said John Mark calmly, "not entirely, you see?"

As he spoke they heard again the unmistakable sound of a rifle shot, andthen another and another, ringing from the place where the two hillsleaned over the road. 

"It's Kruger, " declared John Mark calmly. "That chivalrous idiot, Doone, apparently shot him down and didn't wait to finish him. Very clever workon his part, but very sloppy. However, he seems to have wounded Krugerso badly that my gunman can't hit his mark. "

For Ronicky Doone, if it were indeed he, was still galloping down theroad, more and more clearly discernible, while the rifle firing behindhim ceased. 

"Of course that firing will be the alarm for Lefty, " went on John Mark, seeming to enjoy the spectacle before him, as if it were a thing fromwhich he was entirely detached. "And Lefty can make his choice. Krugerwas his pal. If he wants to revenge the fall of Kruger he may shoot frombehind a tree. If not, he'll shoot from the open, and it will be an evenfight. "

The terror of it all, the whole realization, sprang up in the girl. In amoment she was crying: "Stop him, John--for Heaven's sake, find a way tostop him. "

"There is only one power that can turn the trick, I'm afraid, " answeredJohn Mark. "That power is Lefty. "

"If he shoots Lefty he'll come straight toward us on his way to thehouse, and if he sees you--"

"If he sees me he'll shoot me, of course, " declared Mark. 

She stared at him. "John, " she said, "I know you're brave, but you won'ttry to face him?"

"I'm fairly expert with a gun. " He added: "But it's good of you to beconcerned about me. "

"I am concerned, more than concerned, John. A woman has premonitions, and I tell you I know, as well as I know I'm standing here, that if youface Ronicky Doone you'll go down. "

"You're right, " replied Mark. "I fear that I have been too much of aspecialist, so I shall not face Doone. "

"Then start for the house--and hurry!"

"Run away and leave you here?"

The dust cloud and the figure of the rider in it were sweeping rapidlydown on the grove in the hollow, where Lefty waited. And the girl wastorn between three emotions: Joy at the coming of the adventurer, fearfor him, terror at the thought of his meeting with Mark. 

"It would be murder, John! I'll go with you if you'll start now!"

"No, " he said quietly, "I won't run. Besides it is impossible for him totake you from me. "

"Impossible?" she asked. "What do you mean?"

"When the time comes you'll see! Now he's nearly there--watch!"

The rider was in full view now, driving his horse at a stretchinggallop. There was no doubt about the identity of the man. They could notmake out his face, of course, at that distance, but something in thecareless dash of his seat in the saddle, something about the slender, erect body cried out almost in words that this was Ronicky Doone. Amoment later the first treetops of the grove brushed across him, and hewas lost from view. 

The girl buried her face in her hands, then she looked up. By this timehe must have reached Lefty, and yet there was no sound of shooting. HadLefty found discretion the better part of valor and let him go byunhindered? But, in that case, the swift gallop of the horse would haveborne the rider through the grove by this time. 

"What's happened?" she asked of John Mark. "What can have happened downthere?"

"A very simple story, " said Mark. "Lefty, as I feared, has been morechivalrous than wise. He has stepped out into the road and orderedRonicky to stop, and Ronicky has stopped. Now he is sitting in hissaddle, looking down to Lefty, and they are holding a parley--very liketwo knights of the old days, exchanging compliments before they try tocut each other's throats. "

But, even as he spoke, there was the sound of a gun exploding, and thena silence. 

"One shot--one revolver shot, " said John Mark in his deadly calm voice. "It is as I said. They drew at a signal, and one of them proved far thefaster. It was a dead shot, for only one was needed to end the battle. One of them is standing, the other lies dead under the shadow of thatgrove, my dear. Which is it?"

"Which is it?" asked the girl in a whisper. Then she threw up her handswith a joyous cry: "Ronicky Doone! Ronicky, Ronicky Doone!"

A horseman was breaking into view through the grove, and now he rode outinto full view below them--unmistakably Ronicky Doone! Even at thatdistance he heard the cry, and, throwing up his hand with a shout thattingled faintly up to them, he spurred straight up the slope towardthem. Ruth Tolliver started forward, but a hand closed over her wristwith a biting grip and brought her to a sudden halt. She turned to findJohn Mark, an automatic hanging loosely in his other hand. 

His calm had gone, and in his dead-white face the eyes were rolling andgleaming, and his set lips trembled. "You were right, " he said, "Icannot face him. Not that I fear death, but there would be a thousanddamnations in it if I died knowing that he would have you after my eyeswere closed. I told you he could not take you--not living, my dear. Deadhe may have us both. "

"John!" said the girl, staring and bewildered. "In the name of pity, John, in the name of all the goodness you have showed me, don't do it. "

He laughed wildly. "I am about to lose the one thing on earth I haveever cared for, and still I can smile. I am about to die by my own hand, and still I can smile. For the last time, will you stand up like yourold brave self?"

"Mercy!" she cried. "In Heaven's name--"

"Then have it as you are!" he said, and she saw the sun flash on thesteel, and he raised the gun. 

She closed her eyes--waited--heard the distant drumming of hoofs on theturf of the hillside. Then she caught the report of a gun. 

But it was strangely far away, that sound. She thought at first that thebullet must have numbed, as it struck her. Presently a shooting painwould pass through her body--then death. 

Opening her bewildered eyes she beheld John Mark staggering, theautomatic lying on the ground, his hands clutching at his breast. Thenglancing to one side she saw the form of Ronicky Doone riding as fast asspur would urge his horse, the long Colt balanced in his hand. That, then, was the shot she had heard--a long-range chance shot when he sawwhat was happening on top of the hill. 

So swift was Doone's coming that, by the time she had reached her feetagain, he was beside her, and they leaned over John Mark together. Asthey did so Mark's eyes opened, then they closed again, as if with pain. When he looked again his sight was clear. 

"As I expected, " he said dryly, "I see your faces together--bothtogether, and actually wasting sympathy on me? Tush, tush! So rich inhappiness that you can waste time on me?"

"John, " said the girl on her knees and weeping beside him, "you knowthat I have always cared for you, but as a brother, John, and not--"

"Really, " he said calmly, "you are wasting emotion. I am not going todie, and I wish you would put a bandage around me and send for some ofthe men at the house to carry me up there. That bullet of yours--byHarry, a very pretty snap shot--just raked across my breast, as far as Ican make out. Perhaps it broke a bone or two, but that's all. Yes, I amto have the pleasure of living. "

His smile was ghastly thing, and, growing suddenly weak, as if for thefirst time in his life he allowed his indomitable spirit to relax, hishead fell to one side, and he lay in a limp faint. 

Chapter Twenty-eight

_Hope Deferred_

Time in six months brought the year to the early spring, that time wheneven the mountain desert forgets its sternness for a month or two. Sixmonths had not made Bill Gregg rich from his mine, but it had convincedhim, on the contrary, that a man with a wife must have a sure income, even if it be a small one. 

He squatted on a small piece of land, gathered a little herd, and, having thrown up a four-room shack, he and Caroline lived as happily asking and queen. Not that domains were very large, but, from their hut onthe hill, they could look over a fine sweep of country, which did notall belong to them, to be sure, but which they constantly promisedthemselves should one day be theirs. 

It was the dull period of the afternoon, the quiet, waiting period whichcomes between three or four o'clock and the sunset, and Bill and hiswife sat in the shadow of the mighty silver spruce before their door. The great tree was really more of a home for them than the roof they hadbuilt to sleep under. 

Presently Caroline stood up and pointed. "She's coming, " she said, and, looking down the hillside, she smiled in anticipation. 

The rider below them, winding up the trail, looked up and waved, thenurged her horse to a full gallop for the short remnant of the distancebefore her. It was Ruth Tolliver who swung down from the saddle, laughing and joyous from the ride. 

A strangely changed Ruth she was. She had turned to a brown beauty inthe wind and the sun of the West, a more buoyant and more gracefulbeauty. She had accepted none of the offers of John Mark, but, leavingher old life entirely behind her, as Ronicky Doone had suggested, shewent West to make her own living. With Caroline and Bill Gregg she hadfound a home, and her work was teaching the valley school, half a dozenmiles away. 

"Any mail?" asked Bill, for she passed the distant group of mail boxeson her way to the school. 

At that the face of the girl darkened. "One letter, " she said, "and Iwant you to read it aloud, Caroline. Then we'll all put our headstogether and see if we can make out what it means. " She handed theletter to Caroline, who shook it out. "It's from Ronicky, " sheexclaimed. 

"It's from Ronicky, " said Ruth Tolliver gravely, so gravely that theother two raised their heads and cast silent glances at her. 

Caroline read aloud: "Dear Ruth, I figure that I'm overdue back atBill's place by about a month--"

"By two months, " corrected Ruth soberly. 

"And I've got to apologize to them and you for being so late. Matter offact I started right pronto to get back on time, but something turnedup. You see, I went broke. "

Caroline dropped the letter with an exclamation. "Do you think he's goneback to gambling, Ruth?"

"No, " said the girl. "He gave me his promise never to play for moneyagain, and a promise from Ronicky Doone is as good as minted gold. "

"It sure is, " agreed Bill Gregg. 

Caroline went on with the letter: "I went broke because Pete Darnely wasin a terrible hole, having fallen out with his old man, and Pete neededa lift. Which of course I gave him pronto, Pete being a fine gent. "

There was an exclamation of impatience from Ruth Tolliver. 

"Isn't that like Ronicky? Isn't that typical?"

"I'm afraid it is, " said the other girl with a touch of sadness. "Dearold Ronicky, but such a wild man!"

She continued in the reading: "But I've got a scheme on now by whichI'll sure get a stake and come back, and then you and me can getmarried, as soon as you feel like saying the word. The scheme is to finda lost mine--"

"A lost mine!" shouted Bill Gregg, his practical miner's mind revoltingat this idea. "My guns, is Ronicky plumb nutty? That's all he's got todo--just find a 'lost mine?' Well, if that ain't plenty, may I never seea yearling ag'in!"

"Find a lost mine, " went on Caroline, her voice trembling between tearsand laughter, "and sink a new shaft, a couple of hundred feet to findwhere the old vein--"

"Sink a shaft a couple of hundred feet!" said Bill Gregg. "And himbroke! Where'll he get the money to sink the shaft?"

"When we begin to take out the pay dirt, " went on Caroline, "I'll eithercome or send for you and--"

"Hush up!" said Bill Gregg softly. 

Caroline looked up and saw the tears streaming down the face of RuthTolliver. "I'm so sorry, poor dear!" she whispered, going to the othergirl. But Ruth Tolliver shook her head. 

"I'm only crying, " she said, "because it's so delightfully andbeautifully and terribly like Ronicky to write such a letter and tell ofsuch plans. He's given away a lot of money to help some spendthrift, andnow he's gone to get more money by finding a lost mine!' But do you seewhat it means, Caroline? It means that he doesn't love me--really!"

"Don't love you?" asked Bill Gregg. "Then he's a plumb fool. Why--"

"Hush, Bill, " put in Caroline. "You mustn't say that, " she added toRuth. "Of course you have reason to be sad about it and angry, too. "

"Sad, perhaps, but not angry, " said Ruth Tolliver. "How could I ever bereally angry with Ronicky? Hasn't he given me a chance to live a cleanlife? Hasn't he given me this big free open West to live in? And whatwould I be without Ronicky? What would have happened to me in New York?Oh, no, not angry. But I've simply waked up, Caroline. I see now thatRonicky never cared particularly about me. He was simply in love withthe danger of my position. As a matter of fact I don't think he evertold me in so many words that he loved me. I simply took it for grantedbecause he did such things for me as even a man in love would not havedone. After the danger and uniqueness were gone Ronicky simply lostinterest. "

"Don't say such things!" exclaimed Caroline. 

"It's true, " said Ruth steadily. "If he really wanted to comehere--well, did you ever hear of anything Ronicky wanted that he didn'tget?"

"Except money, " suggested Bill Gregg. "Well, he even gets that, but mostgenerally he gives it away pretty pronto. "

"He'd come like a bullet from a gun if he really wanted me, " said Ruth. "No, the only way I can bring Ronicky is to surround myself with newdangers, terrible dangers, make myself a lost cause again. Then Ronickywould come laughing and singing, eager as ever. Oh, I think I know him!"

"And what are you going to do?" asked Caroline. 

"The only thing I can do, " said the other girl. "I'm going to wait. "

 * * * * *

Far, far north two horsemen came at that same moment to a splitting ofthe trail they rode. The elder, bearded man, pointed ahead. 

"That's the roundabout way, " he said, "but it's sure the only safe way. We'll travel there, Ronicky, eh?"

Ronicky Doone lifted his head, and his bay mare lifted her head at thesame instant. The two were strangely in touch with one another. 

"I dunno, " he said, "I ain't heard of anybody taking the short cut foryears--not since the big slide in the canyon. But I got a feeling I'dsort of like to try it. Save a lot of time and give us a lot of fun. "

"Unless it breaks our necks. "

"Sure, " said Ronicky, "but you don't enjoy having your neck safe andsound, unless you take a chance of breaking it, once in a while. "