Charlton?" she demanded.

"Better ask them if you want to know." With a flare of temper he
contradicted himself. "No, you'd better mind your own business, girl.
Forget your foolishness and 'tend to your knitting."

"I suppose it isn't my business if my kin go to the penitentiary for
train robbery."

"They're not going any such place. If you want to know, I give you my
word that none of us Rutherfords have got the gold stolen from the
Western Express Company."

"And don't know where it is?"

"Haven't the least idea--not one of us."

She drew a deep breath of relief. More than once her father had kept
from her secrets of the family activities, but he had never lied to her.

"Then it doesn't matter about this detective. He can find out nothing
against us," she reflected aloud.

"I'm not so sure about that. We've had our troubles and we don't want
them aired. There was that shooting scrape Hal got into down at Battle
Butte, for instance. Get a little more evidence and the wrong kind of
a jury would send him up for it. No, we'll keep an eye on Mr. Cherokee
Street, or whatever his name is. Reckon I'll ride over and have a talk
with Jess about it."

"Why not tell this man Street that he is not wanted and so be done with
it?"

"Because we wouldn't be done with it. Another man would come in his
place. We'll keep him here where we can do a little detective work on
him, too."

"I don't like it. The thing is underhanded. I hate the fellow. It's
not decent to sit at table with a man who is betraying our
hospitality," she cried hotly.

"It won't be for long, honey. Just leave him to us. We'll hang up his
pelt to dry before we're through with him."

"You don't mean--?"

"No, nothing like that. But he'll crawl out of the park like a whipped
cur with its tail between its legs."

The cook stood in the doorway. "Miss Beulah, do you want that meat
done in a pot roast?" he asked.

"Yes. I'll show you." She turned at the door. "By the way, dad, I
took a snapshot of Mr. Tighe on his porch. I'll develop it to-night
and you can take it to him in the morning."

"All right. Don't mention to anybody that matter we were discussing.
Act like you've forgotten all about what you found out, Boots."

The girl nodded. "Yes."

Chapter IX

The Man on the Bed

Beulah Rutherford found it impossible to resume a relation of
friendliness toward her guest. By nature she was elemental and direct.
A few