nes to the man, so that Braman could not hear. Levins
departed shortly afterwards, grinning crookedly, tucking a piece of paper
into a pocket, upon which Corrigan had transcribed something that had been
written on the cuff of his shirt sleeve. Corrigan went to his desk and
busied himself with some papers. Over in the courthouse, Judge Lindman
took from a drawer in his desk a thin ledger--a duplicate of the one he
had shown Corrigan--and going to the rear of the room opened the door of
an iron safe and stuck the ledger out of sight under a mass of legal
papers.

* * * * *

When Marchmont left Corrigan he went straight to the _Plaza_, where he
ordered a lunch and ate heartily. After finishing his meal he emerged from
the saloon and stood near one of the front windows. One of the hundred
dollar bills that Corrigan had given him he had "broke" in the _Plaza_,
getting bills of small denomination in change, and in his right trousers'
pocket was a roll that bulked comfortably in his hand. The feel of it made
him tingle with satisfaction, as, except for the other thousand that
Corrigan had given him some months ago, it was the only money he had had
for a long time. He knew he should take the next train out of Manti; that
he had done a hazardous thing in baiting Corrigan, but he was lonesome and
yearned for the touch and voice of the crowds that thronged in and out of
the saloons and the stores, and presently he joined them, wandering from
saloon to saloon, drinking occasionally, his content and satisfaction
increasing in proportion to the quantity of liquor he drank.

And then, at about three o'clock, in the barroom of the _Plaza_, he heard
a discordant voice at his elbow. He saw men crowding, jostling one another
to get away from the spot where he stood--crouching, pale of face, their
eyes on him. It made him feel that he was the center of interest, and he
wheeled, staggering a little--for he had drunk much more than he had
intended--to see what had happened. He saw Clay Levins standing close to
him, his thin lips in a cruel curve, his eyes narrowed and glittering, his
body in a suggestive crouch. The silence that had suddenly descended smote
Marchmont's ears like a momentary deafness, and he looked foolishly around
him, uncertain, puzzled. Levins' voice shocked him, sobered him, whitened
his face:

"Fork over that coin you lifted from me in the _Elk_, you light-fingered
hound!" sa