ike, all
that a true woman should be according to the beliefs of certain men of
the type of Jim Kendric, a true descendant of her sweet, old-fashioned
grandmothers. Her little high-heeled slippers, her dainty blue dress,
the flower which even in her distress she had tucked away in her hair,
were quite as he would have had them.

"Betty Gordon," he said softly so that his words would not carry to
other ears, "I want to help you if you will let me. Will you?"

Her clasped hands tightened; he saw the lips tremble before she could
command her utterance.

"I--I don't know what to do," she faltered. Her eyes clung to his
frankly, filled with shining eagerness to read the heart under the
outer man. For the first time Jim was conscious of his several days'
growth of beard; he supposed that it was rather more than an even
chance that his face was grimy and perhaps still carried evidences of
the fight at Bruce West's ranch. To assure her of his honorable
intentions toward her he could have wished for a bath and a shave.

"You're in the hands of a rather bad crowd," he said when he saw that
she had no further words but was waiting for him. "I thought that at
least it would be a relief to know that you had one friend on the job.
And an American at that," he concluded heartily.

"How am I to know who is a friend?" She shivered and pressed tight
against the wall. "That terrible man named Escobar spoke to me of
friendship, and he is the one who gave orders to bring me here! And
the other man, Rios, he spoke words that did not go with the look in
his eyes. And you--you----"

"Well? What about me?"

"You are one of them. I find you staying in their house. You are the
lover of Senorita Castelmar and she is terrible! Oh, I don't know what
to do."

"Who told you that?" he demanded sharply. "That I was Zoraida's lover?"

"One of the maids, Rosita. She told me that Zoraida is mad about you.
And that you are a great adventurer and have killed many men and are a
professional gambler."

"Rosita lied. I am just a prisoner here, like you."

Sheer disbelief shone in Betty's eyes.

"You rode away, alone, this morning," she said. "I saw you through my
window. You come in alone tonight. You are not a prisoner."

"I was allowed to leave the house only when I promised to come back.
Can't you tell when a man is speaking the truth? Good Lord, why should
I want to lie to you?"

Betty hesitated a long time, her hands