ne
cause of his bad temper was the fact that in the bundle of Quien Sabe
letters was one to Hilma Tree in a man's handwriting.

"Huh!" Annixter had growled to himself, "that pip Delaney. Seems now
that I'm to act as go-between for 'em. Well, maybe that feemale girl
gets this letter, and then, again, maybe she don't."

But suddenly his attention was diverted. Directly opposite the Post
Office, upon the corner of the street, stood quite the best business
building of which Bonneville could boast. It was built of Colusa
granite, very solid, ornate, imposing. Upon the heavy plate of the
window of its main floor, in gold and red letters, one read the words:
"Loan and Savings Bank of Tulare County." It was of this bank that S.
Behrman was president. At the street entrance of the building was a
curved sign of polished brass, fixed upon the angle of the masonry; this
sign bore the name, "S. Behrman," and under it in smaller letters were
the words, "Real Estate, Mortgages."

As Annixter's glance fell upon this building, he was surprised to see
Dyke standing upon the curb in front of it, apparently reading from a
newspaper that he held in his hand. But Annixter promptly discovered
that he was not reading at all. From time to time the former engineer
shot a swift glance out of the corner of his eye up and down the street.
Annixter jumped at a conclusion. An idea suddenly occurred to him. Dyke
was watching to see if he was observed--was waiting an opportunity when
no one who knew him should be in sight. Annixter stepped back a little,
getting a telegraph pole somewhat between him and the other. Very
interested, he watched what was going on. Pretty soon Dyke thrust
the paper into his pocket and sauntered slowly to the windows of a
stationery store, next the street entrance of S. Behrman's offices. For
a few seconds he stood there, his back turned, seemingly absorbed in
the display, but eyeing the street narrowly nevertheless; then he turned
around, gave a last look about and stepped swiftly into the doorway
by the great brass sign. He disappeared. Annixter came from behind the
telegraph pole with a flush of actual shame upon his face. There had
been something so slinking, so mean, in the movements and manner of this
great, burly honest fellow of an engineer, that he could not help but
feel ashamed for him. Circumstances were such that a simple business
transaction was to Dyke almost culpable, a degradation, a thing to be
concealed