lass-paneled door. She saw him coming
toward her, still grinning in his joy at the meeting.

"Jean Douglas! By all that's lucky!" he was exclaiming. "Where in the
world did you light down from?" He came to a stop directly in front of
her, and held out his hand in unsuspecting friendship.

CHAPTER XXII

JEAN MEETS ONE CRISIS AND CONFRONTS ANOTHER

"Well, say! This is like seeing you walk out of that picture that's
running at the Teatro Palacia. You sure are making a hit with those
moving-pictures; made me feel like I'd met somebody from home to stroll
in there and see you and Lite come riding up, large as life. How is
Lite, anyway?"

If Art Osgood felt any embarrassment over meeting her, he certainly
gave no sign of it. He sat down on the railing, pushed back his hat,
and looked as though he was preparing for a real soul-feast of
reminiscent gossip. "Just get in?" he asked, by way of opening wider
the channel of talk. He lighted a cigarette and flipped the match down
into the street. "I've been here three or four months. I'm part of
the Mexican revolution, though I don't reckon I look it. We been
keeping things pretty well stirred up, down this way. You looking for
picture dope? Lubin folks are copping all kinds of good stuff here.
You ain't with them, are you?"

Jean braced herself against slipping into easy conversation with this
man who seemed so friendly and unsuspicious and so conscience-free.
Killing a man, she thought, evidently did not seem to him a matter of
any moment; perhaps because he had since then become a professional
killer of men. After planning exactly how she should meet any
contingency that might arise, she found herself baffled. She had not
expected to meet this attitude. She was not prepared to meet it. She
had taken it for granted that Art Osgood would shun a meeting; that she
would have to force him to face her. And here he was, sitting on the
porch rail and swinging one spurred and booted foot, smiling at her and
talking, in high spirits over the meeting--or a genius at acting. She
eyed him uncertainly, trying to adjust herself to this emergency.

Art came to a pause and looked at her inquiringly. "What's the matter?"
he demanded. "You called me up here--and I sure was tickled to death
to come, all right!--and now you stand there looking like I was a kid
that had been caught whispering, and must be kept after school. I know
the symptoms, believe me! You're sore