eeded no urging. He had heard voices beyond the closed door
in front of him, among them a certain high-pitched, snarling,
indescribably evil voice which he knew. He put his hand on the knob
and found that the door was locked. With no waste of time, he drew
back a step, lifted his foot and drove his heel smashing into the lock.
Then, throwing himself forward, driving his shoulder into the door, he
burst it off its hinges.

At last he had found Quinnion.

Here were half a dozen men, not playing cards, but interrupted in a
quiet talk. Standing on the far side of the table was a man who was as
evil a thing to see as was his voice to hear; his face twisted, drawn
to the left side, the left eye a mere slit of malevolence, the uneven
teeth showing in an eternal, mirthless grin, a man whose hands, when
his arms were lax as now, hung almost to his knees, a man twisted
morally, mentally, and physically.

Bud Lee had eyes only for this man. But suddenly Carson had seen
another man, seeking to screen himself behind the great, misshapen bulk
of Quinnion, and with new eagerness was crying:

"It's Shorty, Bud! He's mine!"

But Shorty was no man's yet. At his back was a window; it was closed
and the shade was drawn, but to Shorty it spelled safety. Head first
he went through it, tearing the green shade down, crashing through the
glass, leaving discussion behind him. With a bellow of rage Carson
went after him, forgetful in the instant that there was another matter
on hand to-night. Shorty, consigned to Carson's care and the
grain-house, had slipped away and had laughed at him. Ever since,
Carson had been yearning for the chance to get his two hands on
Shorty's fat throat. Before the smash and tinkle of falling glass had
died away Carson, plunging as Shorty had plunged, was lost to the
bulging eyes which sought to follow him, gone head first into the
darkness without.

Lee kept his eyes hard on Quinnion's. He moved a little, so that the
wall was at his back. His coat was unbuttoned; his left hand was in
his pocket, his arm holding back his coat a little on that side. The
right hand was lax at his side, like Quinnion's.

He had seen the other men, though his eyes had seemed to see only one
man. One of them he knew; the others he had seen. They were the sort
to be found in Quinnion's company. They were the nucleus of what was
spoken of as Quinnion's crowd.

"Quinnion," said Lee quietly, "you are a damned dirty-