rd the door, and while
his attention was fixed on the coming of the blind rancher, he was yet
aware that Diane was clearing the table with what seemed to him
unnecessary haste and noise. However, his momentary interest was
centred upon the doorway and the passage outside, and he paid little
heed to the girl's movements. The door stood open, and as he looked
out the sound of shuffling feet drew nearer; then a figure passed the
opening.

It was gone in a moment. But in that moment he caught sight of a tall
man wrapped in the gray folds of a dressing-gown that reached to his
feet. That, and the sharp outline of a massive head of close-cropped
gray hair. The face was lost, all except the profile. He saw a long,
high-bridged nose and a short, crisp grayish beard. The tapping of the
stick died slowly away. And he knew that the blind man had passed out
on to the verandah.

Now he turned again to the girl, and would have spoken, but she raised
a warning finger and shook her head. Then, moving toward the door, she
beckoned to him to follow.

* * * * *

"Father, this is Mr. Tresler."

Tresler found himself looking down upon a remarkable face. He
acknowledged Diane's introduction, forgetful, for the moment, of the
man's sightless eyes. He gripped the outstretched hand heartily, while
he took in his first impression of a strange personality.

They were out on the verandah. The rancher was sitting in a prim,
uncushioned armchair. He had a strong, well-moulded, pale face, the
sightless eyes of which held the attention. Tresler at once
appreciated Shaky's description of them.

They were dreadful eyes. The pupils were there, and, in a measure,
appeared natural except for their enormous size. They were black, jet
black, and divided from what should have been the whites by minute
rings of blue, the only suspicion of iris they possessed. But it was
the whites that gave them their dreadful expression. They were scarlet
with inflammation--an inflammation which extended to the rims of the
lids and had eaten away the lashes. Of the rest of the face it was
impossible for him to form much of an opinion. The iron-gray brows
were depressed as though with physical pain, and so obliterated all
natural expression. And the beard shut out the indications which the
mouth and chin might have afforded.

"You're welcome, Mr. Tresler," he said, in a low, gentle tone. "I knew
you were here some time ago."

Tresler