ack yere."

It was dark when they came, the fire alone lighting up the interior of
the dingy cabin with a fitful glow of red flame. I had managed to get
out of bed and partially dress myself feeling stronger, and in less
pain as I exercised my muscles. They found me seated before the
fireplace, indulging in a pot of fresh coffee. Haines was a small,
sandy-complexioned man, with a straggling beard and light blue eyes.
He appeared competent enough, a bundle of nervous energy, and yet there
was something about the fellow which instantly impressed me
unfavorably--probably his short, jerky manner of speech, and his
inability to look straight at you.

"Pete has been telling me who you are, Lieutenant," he said, as we
shook hands, "and putting some other things together I can guess the
rest. You came south on the _Warrior_."

"From Fort Armstrong--yes; who told you this?"

"Captain Thockmorton. I saw him in St. Louis, and he seemed deeply
grieved by your sudden disappearance. No one on board was able to
explain what had occurred."

"Yet there were two men on the boat who could have explained, if they
had cared to do so," I answered drily. "I mean Kirby and Carver; they
were the ones who threw me overboard."

He dropped into a chair, his keen, ferret eyes on my face.

"Kirby and Carver? They went ashore with the Judge's body at the
Landing. So there is a story back of all this," he exclaimed jerkily.
"Damn it, I thought as much. Was Beaucaire killed?"

"No--not at least by any violence. No doubt the shock of his loss
hastened his death. Surely you must know that he risked all he
possessed on a game of cards and lost?"

"Thockmorton knew something about it, and there were other rumors
floating about the Landing, but I have heard no details."

"You did not see the two men, then?"

"No, I was not at home, and they went on down the river the next day on
a keel-boat. You saw the play?"

"I saw the last part of the game and was convinced, as all the others
present were, that the Judge was deliberately ruined for a purpose. I
believe it was all planned beforehand, but of this we have no tangible
proof."

"His opponent was Joe Kirby?"

"And a fellow named Carver, a mere hanger-on."

Haines wet his lips, his eyes narrowing to mere slits, his professional
nature coming to the front.

"First, let me ask you why you believe Beaucaire was cheated?" he
piped. "I know Joe Kirby, and consider him quite capab