urned, Dorothy found her
voice steadier than she expected.

The agent looked at her keenly.

"That's strange," he commented. "I don't know what the door was doing
unlocked. I always lock it when I leave."

"You must have forgotten to do so to-night."

"I surely must have, if you found it open."

Half convinced that she was telling the truth, Moran could see but one
reason for her evident fright: she was afraid of him. The suggestion of
that strengthened the impulse which her beauty stirred in him. If she
thought so, why not?

"Say, you're a good-looking kid, all right," he leered. "What did you
want to see me for?"

A slight sound from behind the safe, or perhaps she imagined it, caused
Dorothy's heart to flutter wildly. She had not anticipated this attitude
in Moran, and she instantly realized that it brought a fresh danger into
the situation. She knew that Wade would not remain in concealment if the
agent insulted her. She must avoid the chance of that, if possible; must
get him out of the office so that Gordon might escape.

"This is no place to talk that way," she said bravely. "It isn't a good
place for me to be anyway. If people knew I was here, there would be a
terrible scandal. I've something important to tell you. Won't you come
for a walk?"

"In this rain? Not much," he chuckled. "Come here!" She shook her head
and tried to smile. "Well, if you won't, I'll have to go to you." She
shrank back from him, as he approached her, with an evil smile. "Say,
little one," he went on, "this is a damned funny game of yours, coming
here at night. What's the idea, eh?"

"There isn't any, really." She snatched her hands away from him. "I've
already tried to explain that I have important news for you; but I won't
tell you what it is here."

"Why not? We're dry and cozy here. Go ahead."

"No."

"Oh, come on!" He had driven her to the wall, and now he slipped an arm
about her waist and pulled her toward him. "Say, kiss me once, won't
you?"

"Hands up, you low-lived hound!"

With an oath, Moran whirled around to find himself staring into the
muzzle of Wade's revolver. The ranchman moved his weapon significantly.

"Up!"

As the agent's hands went above his head, Dorothy leaned against the
wall for support. She had not made a sound, but she was the color of
chalk, and her heart seemed to be trying to jump out of her mouth. She
was no whiter than Wade, whose fury had driven every vestige of color
from his fac