rge part of your conversation. I know why you consented to close
down La Rosita for the present; I know your connection with this gang
of crooks from New York; I know that Fred Cavendish was not murdered,
but is being held a prisoner somewhere, until Enright, here, can steal
his money under some legal form. I know you have claimed, and been
promised, your share of the swag--isn't that true?"

"It's very damn interesting anyway--but not so easy to prove. What
next?"

"This: Enright told you who Stella Donovan was, and what he suspected
her object might be. Force is the only method you know anything about,
and no other means occurred to you whereby the girl could be quickly
put out of the way. This was resorted to last night after you returned
to Haskell. I do not pretend to know how it was accomplished, nor do I
greatly care. Through some lie, no doubt. But, anyway, she was
inveigled into leaving the hotel, seized by you and some of your gang,
forced into a wagon, and driven off by Matt Moore."

"You are a good dreamer. Why not ask Timmons to show you the letter
she left?"

"I have already seen it. You thought you had the trail well covered.
That note was written not by Miss Donovan, but by the blonde in your
outfit. The whole trouble is that your abduction of Stella Donovan was
witnessed from a back window of the hotel."

Lacy leaped to his feet, but Westcott's gun rose steadily, and the man
stood with clenched hands, helpless in his tracks.

"Who says that?" he demanded.

"I am mentioning no names at present, but the very fact that I know
these things ought to be sufficient. You better sit down, Lacy, before
you forget yourself and get hurt. If you imagine this gun isn't
loaded, a single step forward will test it. Sit down! I am not
through yet."

There was a quiet, earnest threat in the voice which Lacy understood,
the sort of threat which meant strict attention to business, and he
relaxed into his chair.

"I'll get you for this, Westcott," he muttered savagely, hate burning
in his eyes. "I haven't played my last cards--yet."

The miner smiled grimly, but with no relaxation of vigilance. He was
into it now, and proposed seeing it through.

"I have a few left myself," he returned soberly. "Your man Moore drove
south, taking the road leading into the Shoshone desert, and he had
another one of your gang with him. Then you, and two others, went back
into the hotel, using the outside stairs