ealing her impatience. For the time everything was forgotten while
she learned of the murderer of her first love. The peaceful scene
about her was set before eyes which no longer gazed with intelligence
upon their surroundings. She was back in the farm parlour listening to
Leslie's story of his hopes--his aspirations. Every detail of that
evening was brought vividly back to her memory. She remembered, too,
that that was the night on which Hervey had returned. There was a
significance in the thought that was not lost upon her.

Hervey had come to a stand, and Prudence placed herself before him.
Neche squatted beside her, and as he sat his head reached up to her
waist.

"Very well. The question alone remains, who along the border in this
part of the country is smuggling Chinese? And having found your man,
did he insert the notice in question?"

"Yes--and you----"

"Chance pointed out the man to me. And I have ascertained the rest."

"And who is the murderer of Leslie?"

There was an impressive pause. Hervey gazed down into the eager
upturned face. The dog beside the girl moved restlessly, and as he
moved he made a curious whining noise. His nose was held high in the
air, and his greenish eyes looked up towards the spotless sun-bonnet.

"The owner of Lonely Ranch. George Iredale!"

Hervey turned abruptly away. Neche had moved a little way back along
the trail and stood looking about him. Then out on the still air rang
a piercing, hysterical laugh. And Prudence stretched out her arm and
clutched at the barbed-wire fence-post as though her mirth had
overcome her.

Hervey looked sharply round upon her. Neche gave a low growl, the
noise seemed to have offended him; then he limped off down the trail
back to the house.

CHAPTER XV

THE MAGGOT AT THE CORE

Hervey's look of surprise quickly changed to one of displeasure. To
him his sister's attitude merely suggested incredulity, nothing more.

"Well?" he said at last, as her laugh died out suddenly.

Prudence turned upon him with a strange fierceness.

"Go on. You must tell me more than that to convince me. George
Iredale--smuggler, murderer! You must be mad!"

Hervey kept himself well in hand. He was playing for a great stake. He
would lose nothing through any ill-advised bluster.

"I was never more sane in my life," he answered coldly. "I am ready to
prove my words."

"Prove them."

Prudence's face and the tone of her voice were icy. Her mouth wa