That was how Boone Helm--"

The rest of the story was blotted from the mind of Vic Gregg by the thud
of a heavy heel on the veranda, and then the broad shoulders of Blondy
Hansen darkened the doorway, Blondy Hansen dressed for the dance, with
the knot of his black silk handkerchief turned to the front and above
that the gleam of his celluloid collar. It was dim in the saloon,
compared with the brightness of the outdoors, and perhaps Blondy did
not see Vic. At any rate he took his place at the other end of the
bar. Three pictures tangled in the mind of Gregg like three bodies in
a whirlpool--Betty, Blondy, Pete Glass. That strange clearness of
perception increased and the whole affair lay plainly before him. Betty
had sent Hansen, dressed manifestly for the festival, to gloat over Vic
in Lorrimer's place. He was at it already.

"All turned out for the dance, Blondy, eh? Takin' a girl?"

"Betty Neal," answered Blondy.

"The hell you are!" inquired Lorrimer, mildly astonished. "I
thought--why, Vic's back in town, don't you know that?"

"He ain't got a mortgage on what she does."

Then, guided by the side-glance of Lorrimer, Hansen saw Gregg, and
he stiffened. As for Vic, he perceived the last link in his chain of
evidence. Hansen was going to a dance, and yet he wore a gun, and there
could be only one meaning in that: Betty had sent him down there to wind
up the affair.

"Didn't see you, Vic," Blondy was saying, his flushed face seeming
doubly red against the paleness of his hair. "Have something?"

"I ain't drinkin'," answered Gregg, and slowly, to make sure that no one
could miss his meaning, he poured out a glass of liquor, and drank it
with his face towards Hansen. When he put his glass down his mind was
clearer than ever; and with omniscient precision, with nerveless calm,
he knew that he was going to kill Blondy Hansen; knew exactly where
the bullet would strike. It was something put behind him; his mind had
already seen Hansen fall, and he smiled.

Dead silence had fallen over the room, and in the silence Gregg heard a
muffled, ticking sound, the beating of his heart; heard old Lew Perkins
as the latter softly, slowly, glided back out of the straight line of
danger; heard the quick breathing of Captain Lorrimer who stood pasty
pale, gaping behind the bar; heard the gritted teeth of Blondy Hansen,
who would not take water.

"Vic," said Blondy, "it looks like you mean trouble. Anyway, you just
now done som