now that man?" she asked quickly. "He followed me all the time
I was shopping. I--I believe he is the same one who jostled me in the
crowd last night."

Keith leaned past her to get a better view, but the fellow turned, and
slouched away.

"I only had a glimpse, but have no recollection of ever seeing him
before. You heard no name?"

"'Wild Bill' called him either Scott, or Scotty--if this is the same
man."

Keith's jaw set, the fighting light burning in his eyes. That was the
name of the fellow rooming with Willoughby, the one who seemed to be
Hawley's special assistant. Was he here as a spy? His hands clinched on
the rail. He was anxious to go down and wring the truth out of him, but
instead, he compelled his eyes to smile, turning back to the girl.

"A mere accident probably; but about my request? May I talk with you a
few moments alone?"

She bowed, apparently still dissatisfied regarding his lengthy
conversation with Christie, yet permitted him to follow down the hall.
She held open the door of "15," and he entered silently, not wholly
understanding the change in her manner. She stood before the dresser,
drawing off her gloves and removing her hat.

"Will you be seated, Captain; the arm-chair by the window is the more
comfortable." She turned toward him, almost shyly, yet with womanly
curiosity which would not be stilled. "Was your call upon Miss Maclaire
very interesting? Did you admire her very much?"

Keith's eyes lifted to her face, his ears quick to detect the undertone
in her voice.

"Interesting? yes, for I was seeking after information, and met with
some success. As to the other question, I am not sure whether I admire
the lady or not. She is bright, pretty, and companionable, and in spite
of her profession, at heart, I believe, a good woman. But really, Miss
Hope, I was too deeply immersed in my purpose to give her personality
much consideration. Among other things we spoke of you."

"Of me? Why?"

"I told her something of our adventures together; of how both Hawley
and I had been confused. She was anxious to learn who you were, but
unfortunately, I have never, even yet, heard your name."

"You have not?"

"No; I left you at Fort Larned believing you Christie
Maclaire--supposing it your stage name, of course--and was confirmed in
this belief by finding in the holster of the saddle you had been riding
an envelope bearing that address."

"I remember; it contained the note the man brought t