twist."

"The sequence in this particular instance is immaterial--quite
immaterial," argued the playwright, with obstinate assurance. "The fact
stays with us that there _was_ something partly unaccountable in this
first tragedy to which the thought of Hoskins--the thoughts of all those
who knew the circumstances--could revert."

"Well?" said Ballard.

"It is on this hypothesis that I have constructed my theory. Casting out
all the accidents chargeable to carelessness, to disobedience of orders,
or to temporary aberration on the part of the workmen, there still
remains a goodly number of them carrying this disturbing atom of
mystery. Take Sanderson's case: he came here, I'm told, with a decent
record; he was not in any sense of the words a moral degenerate. Yet in
a very short time he was killed in a quarrel over a woman at whom the
average man wouldn't look twice. Blacklock, here, has seen this woman;
but I'd like to ask if either of you two have?"--this to Ballard and the
assistant.

Ballard shook his head, and Bromley confessed that he had not.

"Well, Jerry and I have the advantage of you--we have seen her," said
Wingfield, scoring the point with a self-satisfied smile. "She is a
gray-haired Mexican crone, apparently old enough, and certainly hideous
enough, to be the Mexican foreman's mother. I'll venture the assertion
that Sanderson never thought of her as a feminine possibility at all."

"Hold on; I shall be obliged to spoil your theory there," interrupted
Bromley. "Billy unquestionably put himself in Manuel's hands. He used to
go down to the ranch two or three times a week, and he spent money, a
good bit of it, on the woman. I know it, because he borrowed from me.
And along toward the last, he never rode in that direction without
slinging his Winchester under the stirrup-leather."

"Looking for trouble with Manuel, you would say?" interjected Wingfield.

"No doubt of it. And when the thing finally came to a focus, the Mexican
gave Billy a fair show; there were witnesses to that part of it. Manuel
told Sanderson to take his gun, which the woman was trying to hide, get
on his horse, and ride to the north corner of the corral, where he was
to wheel and begin shooting--or be shot in the back. The programme was
carried out to the letter. Manuel walked his own horse to the south
corner, and the two men wheeled and began to shoot. Three or four shots
were fired by each before Billy was hit."

"Um!" said the pl