etween his lips. "Red" called after him.

"Keep away from in front of the door, Bill; he'll shoot sure, for he
cocked his gun when I was up there."

Hickock glanced back, and waved his hand.

"Don't worry--the room occupied by Mr.--ah--Montgomery was '15,' I
believe you said?"

Whatever occurred above, it was over with very shortly. Those listening
at the foot of the stairs heard the first gentle rap on the door, an
outburst of profanity, followed almost instantly by a sharp snap, as
if a lock had given way, then brief scuffling mingled with the loud
creaking of a bed. Scarcely a minute later the marshal appeared on
the landing above, one hand firmly gripped in the neck-band of an
undershirt, thus securely holding the writhing, helpless figure of a
man, who swore violently every time he could catch his breath.

"Any other room you could conveniently assign Mr.--ah--Montgomery to,
Tommy?" he asked pleasantly. "If he doesn't like it in the morning, he
could be changed, you know."

"Give--give him '47.'"

"All right. I'm the bell-boy temporarily, Montgomery; easy now, my
man, easy, or I'll be compelled to use both hands. 'Red,' carry the
gentleman's luggage to '47'--he has kindly consented to give up his old
room to a lady--come along, Montgomery."

It was possibly five minutes later when he came down, still smoking, his
face not even flushed.

"Montgomery is feeling so badly we were obliged to lock him in," he
reported to the clerk. "Seems to be of a somewhat nervous disposition.
Well, good-night, Doctor," he lifted his hat. "And to you, Miss,
pleasant dreams."

Hope watched him as he stepped outside, pausing a moment in the shadows
to glance keenly up and down the long street before venturing down
the steps. This quiet man had enemies, hundreds of them, desperate and
reckless; ceaseless vigilance alone protected him. Yet her eyes only,
and not her thoughts, were riveted on the disappearing marshal. She
turned to Fairbain, who had risen to his feet.

"I wish I might see him, also," she said, as though continuing an
interrupted conversation.

"See him? Who?"

"Mr. Keith. I--I knew him once, and--and, Doctor, won't you tell him I
should like to have him come and see me just--just as soon as he can."

Chapter XXII. An Interrupted Interview

Miss Christie Maclaire, attired in a soft lounging robe, her luxuriant
hair wound simply about her head, forming a decidedly attractive
picture, gazed with m