d me a little, a very little, of what has occurred since I left New
York so hurriedly two months ago. This is the first I knew about it,
and the mystery of the whole affair is as puzzling as ever."

Her eyes widened wonderingly.

"You cannot explain? Not even who the dead man was found murdered in
your apartments?"

"I haven't the least idea."

"Fred has told me all he knows," broke in Westcott "but it only extends
to midnight when he left the city. He was in his apartments less than
ten minutes after his valet retired. He supposed he left everything in
good order, with a note on the writing-table instructing Valois what to
do during his absence, and enclosing a sum of money. Afterward, on the
train, he discovered that he had mislaid the key to his safe but this
occasioned no worry, as he had taken with him all the cash it held, and
the papers were of slight importance."

"But," she broke in impatiently, "where did he go? How did he escape
encountering Beaton and why did he fail to answer your message?"

The eyes of the two men met, and they both smiled. "The very questions
I asked," replied Westcott instantly. "In the instructions left Valois
was a check for five thousand dollars made to my order, to be forwarded
at once. Fred's destination was Sonora, Mexico, where he had some
large copper interests. He intended to look after these and return
here to Haskell within a week, or ten days. But the war in Mexico made
this impossible--once across the border he couldn't get back. He wrote
me, but evidently the letter miscarried."

"And Beaton missed him entirely."

"By pure luck. Fred phoned the New York Central for a lower to
Chicago, and they were all gone. Enright must have learned, in some
way, of his calling that office, and so informed Beaton, who took that
train. Later, from his own rooms, Cavendish secured accommodations on
the Pennsylvania."

He paused, endeavouring to see out through the window, hearing the hoof
beats of an approaching team.

"What's that, Pete?" he asked of Timmons, who was hovering as closely
as he dared. "Pretty late, isn't it?"

"Guests, I reckon; the Overland was three hours late; sure, they're
stoppin' yere."

CHAPTER XXXIV: MISS DONOVAN DECIDES

Two men came in through the door together, each with a small grip in
his hand, which Timmons took from them, and deposited beside the stove.
The larger wrote both names in the register, and then straightened up,