low lope, not even looking toward the
Wolf as he passed it, but hearing subdued voices that seemed to die away
as he drew close.

He brought Red King to a halt in front of the brick building in which
Gary Warden had his office, dismounted, tied the horse to a hitching
rail and strode to an open doorway from which ran the stairs that led
to the second floor. A gilt sign on the open door advised him of the
location of Warden's office.

With one foot on the stairs, ready to ascend, Lawler heard a woman's
voice, floating downward, coming from the landing above:

"Well, good-bye Gary," said the voice; "I'll see you tonight."

Lawler heard a man's voice answering, the words unintelligible to him;
then the woman laughed, banteringly.

Then came the sound of a door closing, and the light tread of a woman's
foot on the stairs.

Lawler had halted when he heard the woman's voice; he now stepped back
in the narrow hallway, against the open door, to give the woman room to
pass him.

Turning his back to the stairs, unconcernedly waiting, subconsciously
realizing that the woman was descending, he gazed past the station
building to see the empty corrals on the other side of the railroad
track. His eyes narrowed with satisfaction--for there would be room for
the thousand head of cattle that Blackburn and the other men of the
Circle L outfit would bring to Willets in the morning. There would be no
delay, and no camp on the edge of town, awaiting the emptying of the
corral.

When he heard the woman's step on the bottom of the stairs he turned and
faced her. She was looking straight at him, and as their eyes met he saw
hers widen eloquently. She half paused as she started to pass him, and
it seemed to him that she was about to speak. He smiled gravely,
puzzled, hesitant, for her manner indicated that she knew him, or was
mistaking him for another. He paused also, and both stood for a fleeting
instant face to face, silent.

Lawler noted that the woman was beautiful, well dressed, with a manner
unmistakably eastern. He decided that she had mistaken him for someone
of her acquaintance, for he felt assured he never had seen her before.
He bowed, saying lowly:

"I beg your pardon, ma'am; I reckon it's a case of mistaken identity."

"Why," she returned, laughing; "I thought sure I knew you. Are you quite
certain that I don't?"

There was guile in her eyes; so far back that he could not see it, or so
cleverly veiled with something