' me, I hope he's lookin'
for Long--"

"'S--sh!" interrupted Laramie. "You must be half drunk, to go talkie'
that way."

Thereafter they conversed in too low a tone for Duane to hear, and
presently Laramie's visitor left. Duane went inside, and, making himself
agreeable, began to ask casual questions about Fairdale. Laramie was not
communicative.

Duane went to his room in a thoughtful frame of mind. Had Laramie's
visitor meant he hoped some one had come to kill Longstreth? Duane
inferred just that from the interrupted remark. There was something
wrong about the Mayor of Fairdale. Duane felt it. And he felt also, if
there was a crooked and dangerous man, it was this Floyd Lawson. The
innkeeper Laramie would be worth cultivating. And last in Duane's
thoughts that night was Miss Longstreth. He could not help thinking of
her--how strangely the meeting with her had affected him. It made him
remember that long-past time when girls had been a part of his life.
What a sad and dark and endless void lay between that past and the
present! He had no right even to dream of a beautiful woman like Ray
Longstreth. That conviction, however, did not dispel her; indeed,
it seemed perversely to make her grow more fascinating. Duane grew
conscious of a strange, unaccountable hunger, a something that was like
a pang in his breast.

Next day he lounged about the inn. He did not make any overtures to
the taciturn proprietor. Duane had no need of hurry now. He contented
himself with watching and listening. And at the close of that day he
decided Fairdale was what MacNelly had claimed it to be, and that he was
on the track of an unusual adventure. The following day he spent in much
the same way, though on one occasion he told Laramie he was looking for
a man. The innkeeper grew a little less furtive and reticent after that.
He would answer casual queries, and it did not take Duane long to learn
that Laramie had seen better days--that he was now broken, bitter, and
hard. Some one had wronged him.

Several days passed. Duane did not succeed in getting any closer to
Laramie, but he found the idlers on the corners and in front of the
stores unsuspicious and willing to talk. It did not take him long to
find out that Fairdale stood parallel with Huntsville for gambling,
drinking, and fighting. The street was always lined with dusty, saddled
horses, the town full of strangers. Money appeared more abundant than in
any place Duane had ever visite