ance.

"For God's sake, Mr. Westcott," she whispered, "don't never tell
anybody I told yer, but she was awful good ter me, an' that pasty-faced
blonde makes me sick just ter look at her. You know the feller they
call Enright, I reckon he's a lawyer."

Westcott nodded.

"Well, he was doin' most of the talkin', an' I was foolin' round the
sideboard yonder, pretendin' ter clean it up. Nobody thought I was in
ear distance, but I got hold ov a word now an' then. He kept tellin'
'em, 'specially the blonde, 'bout this Mexican, who's a friend of Bill
Lacy, an' I judge has a place whar he hangs out with his gang somewhar
in the big desert."

"Was anything said about Miss Donovan?"

"Not by name; they was too smart for that; but that was the direction
Matt Moore drove off last night--there's Enright comin' down-stairs
now; won't yer hav' some more cakes, sir?"

Westcott pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. He had extracted
all the information the girl possessed, and had no wish to expose her
to suspicion. There was no longer a doubt in his mind as to the fate
of Miss Donovan. She had been forcibly abducted by this gang of
thieves, and put where her knowledge could do them no harm. But where?
The clue had been given him, but before it could be of any value he
must learn more of this Mexican, Mendez. The name itself was familiar
enough, for it was one often spoken along the border in connection with
crime, but beyond this meant nothing to him. The fellow had always
appeared a rather mythical character, but now became suddenly real.
The marshal might know; if not, then he must choke the truth out of
Lacy. Determined to make the effort, he muttered a swift word of
thanks to Sadie and left the room.

Enright was not in the office, but had evidently merely passed through
and gone out. Timmons was sound asleep in a chair by the window,
oblivious to any ordinary noise. From the open doorway Westcott took
careful survey Of the street, adjusting his belt so that the butt of
his revolver was more convenient to the hand. He had no conception
that his coming interview with Lacy was to be altogether a pleasant
one, and realised fully the danger confronting him.

Very few of the citizens of Haskell were abroad, although a small group
were ornamenting the platform in front of Healey's saloon opposite. At
that moment the little marshal, his broad-brimmed hat cocked over one
eye, emerged from the narrow alleyway betw