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night hereā€”in the back room.ā€

ā€œThen you didnā€™t see the Judge last nightā€”or hear him?ā€

ā€œNo.ā€

Corrigan drew the Judgeā€™s letter from the pocket and passed it over to Braman, watching his face steadily as he read. He saw a quick stain appear in the bankerā€™s cheeks, and his own lips tightened.

The banker coughed before he spoke. ā€œWasnā€™t that a rather abrupt leave-taking?ā€

ā€œYesā€”rather,ā€ said Corrigan, dryly. ā€œYou didnā€™t hear him walking about during the night?ā€

ā€œNo.ā€

ā€œYouā€™re rather a heavy sleeper, eh? There is only a thin board partition between this building and the courthouse.ā€

ā€œHe must have left after daylight. Of course, any noise he might have made after that I wouldnā€™t have noticed.ā€

ā€œNo, of course not,ā€ said Corrigan, passionlessly. ā€œWellā€”heā€™s gone.ā€ He seemed to have dismissed the matter from his mind and Braman sighed with relief. But he watched Corrigan narrowly during the remainder of the time he stayed in the office, and when he went out, Braman shook a vindictive fist at his back.

ā€œWorry, damn you!ā€ he sneered. ā€œI donā€™t know what was in Judge Lindmanā€™s mind, but I hope he never comes back! That will help to repay you for that knockdown!ā€

Corrigan went over to the Castle and ate supper. He was preoccupied and deliberate, for he was trying to weave a complete fabric out of the threads of Bramanā€™s visits to Hester Harvey; Hesterā€™s ride westward, and Judge Lindmanā€™s abrupt departure. He had a feeling that they were in some way connected.

At a little after seven he finished his meal, went upstairs and knocked at the door of Hester Harveyā€™s room. He stepped inside when she opened the door, and stood, both hands in the pockets of his trousers, looking at her with a smile of repressed malignance.

ā€œNice night for a ride, wasnā€™t it?ā€ he said, his lips parting a very little to allow the words to filter through.

The woman flashed a quick, inquiring look at him, saw the passion in his eyes, the gleam of malevolent antagonism, and she set herself against it. For her talk with Trevison last night had convinced her of the futility of hope. She had gone out of his life as a commonplace incident slips into the oblivion of yesteryear. Worseā€”he had refused to recall it. It hurt her, this knowledgeā€”his rebuff. It had aroused cold, wanton passions in herā€”she had become a woman who did not care. She met Corriganā€™s gaze with a look of defiant mockery.

ā€œSwell. I enjoyed every minute of it. Wonā€™t you sit down?ā€

He held himself back, grinning coldly, for the womanā€™s look had goaded him to fury.

ā€œNo,ā€ he said; ā€œIā€™ll stand. I wonā€™t be here a minute. You saw Trevison last night, eh? You warned him that I was going to have Carson arrested.ā€ He had hazarded this guess, for it had seemed to him that it must be the solution to the mystery, and when he caught the quick, triumphant light in the womanā€™s eyes at his words he knew he had not erred.

ā€œYes,ā€ she said; ā€œI saw him, and I told himā€”what Braman told me.ā€ She saw his eyes glitter and she laughed harshly. ā€œThatā€™s what you wanted to know, isnā€™t it, Jeffā€”what Braman told me? Well, you know it. I knew you couldnā€™t play square with me. You thought you could dupe meā€”again, didnā€™t you? Well, you didnā€™t, for I snared Braman and pumped him dry. Heā€™s kept me posted on your movements; and his little board telephoneā€”Ha, ha! that makes you squirm, doesnā€™t it? But it was all wasted effortā€”Trevison wonā€™t have meā€”heā€™s through. And Iā€™m through. Iā€™m not going to try any more. Iā€™m going back East, after I get rested. You fight it out with Trevison. But I warn you, heā€™ll beat youā€”and I wish he would! As for that beast, Braman, I wishā€”Ah, let him go, Jeff,ā€ she advised, noting the cold fury in his eyes.

ā€œThatā€™s all right,ā€ he said with a dry laugh. ā€œYou and Braman have done well. It hasnā€™t done me any harm, and so weā€™ll forget about it. What do you say to having a drinkā€”and a talk. As in old times, eh?ā€ He seemed suddenly to have conquered his passion, but the queer twitching of his lips warned the woman, and when he essayed to move toward her, smiling pallidly, she darted to the far side of a stand near the center of the room, pulled out a drawer, produced a small revolver and leveled it at him, her eyes wide and glittering with menace.

ā€œStay where you are, Jeff!ā€ she ordered. ā€œThereā€™s murder in your heart, and I know it. But I donā€™t intend to be the victim. Iā€™ll shoot if you come one step nearer!ā€

He smirked at her, venomously. ā€œAll right,ā€ he said. ā€œYouā€™re wise. But get out of town on the next train.ā€

ā€œIā€™ll go when I get readyā€”you canā€™t scare me. Let me alone or Iā€™ll go to Rosalind Benham and let her in on the whole scheme.ā€

ā€œYes you willā€”not,ā€ he laughed. ā€œIf I know anything about you, you wonā€™t do anything that would give Miss Benham to Trevison.ā€

ā€œThatā€™s right; Iā€™d rather see her married to youā€”that would be the refinement of cruelty!ā€

He laughed sneeringly and stepped out of the door. Waiting a short time, the woman heard his step in the hall. Then she darted to the door, locked it, and leaned against it, panting.

ā€œIā€™ve done it now,ā€ she murmured. ā€œBramanā€”Well, it serves him right!ā€

Corrigan stopped in the barroom and got a drink. Then he walked to the front door and stood in it for an instant, finally stepping down into the street. Across the street in the banking room he saw a thin streak of light gleaming through a crevice in the doorway that led from the banking room to the rear. The light told him that Braman was in the rear room. Selecting a moment when the street in his vicinity was deserted, Corrigan deliberately crossed, standing for a moment in the shadow of the bank building, looking around him. Then he slipped around the building and tapped cautiously on the rear door. An instant later he was standing inside the room, his back against the door. Braman, arrayed as he had been the night before, had opened the door. He had been just ready to go when he heard Corriganā€™s knock.

ā€œGoing out, Croft?ā€ said Corrigan pleasantly, eyeing the other intently. ā€œAll lit up, too! Youā€™re getting to be a gay dog, lately.ā€

There was nothing in Corriganā€™s bantering words to bring on that sudden qualm of sickening fear that seized the banker. He knew it was his guilt that had done itā€”guilt and perhaps a dread of Corriganā€™s rage if he should learn of his duplicity. But that word ā€œlatelyā€! If it had been uttered with any sort of an accent he might have been suspicious. But it had come with the bantering ring of the others, with no hint of special significance. And Braman was reassured.

ā€œYes, Iā€™m going out.ā€ He turned to the mirror on the wall. ā€œIā€™m getting rather stale, hanging around here so much.ā€

ā€œThatā€™s right, Croft. Have a good time. How much money is there in the safe?ā€

ā€œTwo or three thousand dollars.ā€ The banker turned from the glass. ā€œWant some? Ha, ha!ā€ he laughed at the otherā€™s short nod; ā€œthere are other gay dogs, I guess! How much do you want?ā€

ā€œAll youā€™ve got?ā€

ā€œAll! Jehoshaphat! You must have a big deal on tonight!ā€

ā€œYes, big,ā€ said Corrigan evenly. ā€œGet it.ā€

He followed the banker into the banking room, carefully closing the door behind him, so that the light from the rear room could not penetrate. ā€œThatā€™s all right,ā€ he reassured the banker as the latter noticed the action; ā€œthis isnā€™t a public matter.ā€

He stuffed his pockets with the money the banker gave him, and when the other tried to close the door of the safe he interposed a restraining hand, laughing:

ā€œLeave it open, Croft. Itā€™s empty now, and a cracksman trying to get into it would ruin a perfectly good safe, for nothing.ā€

ā€œThatā€™s right.ā€

They went into the rear room again, Corrigan last, closing the door behind him. Braman went again to the glass, Corrigan standing silently behind him.

Standing before the glass, the banker was seized with a repetition of the sickening fear that had oppressed him at Corriganā€™s words upon his entrance. It seemed to him that there was a sinister significance behind Corriganā€™s present silence. A tension came between them, portentous of evil. Braman shivered, but the silence held. The banker tried to think of something to sayā€”his thoughts were rioting in chaos, a dumb, paralyzing terror had seized him, his lips stuck together, the facial muscles refusing their office. He dropped his hands to his sides and stared into the glass, noting the ghastly pallor that had come over his faceā€”the dull, whitish yellow of muddy marble. He could not turn, his legs were quivering. He knew it was conscienceā€”only that. And yet Corriganā€™s ominous silence continued. And now he caught his breath with a shuddering gasp, for he saw Corriganā€™s face reflected in the glass, looking over his shoulderā€”a mirthless smirk on it, the eyes cold, and dancing with a merciless and cunning purpose. While he watched, he saw Corriganā€™s lips open:

ā€œWhereā€™s the board telephone, Braman?ā€

The banker wheeled, then. He tried to screamā€”the sound died in a gasping gurgle as Corrigan leaped and throttled him. Later, he fought to loosen the grip of the iron fingers at his throat, twisting, squirming, threshing about the room in his agony. The grip held, tightened. When the banker was quite still Corrigan put out the light, went into the banking room, where he scattered the papers and books in the safe all around the room. Then he twisted the lock off the door, using an iron bar that he had noticed in a corner when he had come in, and stepped out into the shadow of the building.

CHAPTER XXIII FIRST PRINCIPLES

Judge Lindman shivered, though a merciless, blighting sun beat down on the great stone ledge that spread in front of the opening, smothering him with heat waves that eddied in and out, and though the interior of the low-ceilinged chamber pulsed with the fetid heat sucked in from the plains generations before. The adobe walls, gray-black in the subdued light, were dry as powder and crumbling in spots, the stone floor was exposed in many places; there was a strange, sickening odor, as though the naked, perspiring bodies of inhabitants in ages past had soaked the walls and floor with the man-scent, and intervening years of disuse had mingled their musty breath with it. But for the presence of the serene-faced, steady-eyed young man who leaned carelessly against the wall outside, whose shoulder and profile he could see, the Judge might have yielded completely to the overpowering conviction that he was dreaming, and that his adventures of the past twelve hours were horrors of his imagination. But he knew from the young manā€™s presence at the door that his experience had been real enough, and the knowledge kept his brain out of the threatening chaos.

Some time during the night he had awakened on his cot in the rear room of the courthouse to hear a cold, threatening voice warning him to silence. He had recognized the voice, as he had recognized it once before, under similar conditions. He had been gagged, his hands tied behind him. Then he had been lifted, carried outside, placed on the back of a horse, in front of his captor, and borne away in the darkness. They had ridden many miles before the horse came to a halt and he was lifted down. Then he had been forced to ascend a sharp slope; he could hear the horse clattering up behind them. But he had not been

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