en woman had been, the
substantial fact remained that he had in his pocket an important
document. After all, Lucy Thomas had talked--and signed.

"Mattie," he called, "fix me an orangeade, please. Mr. Greenleaf's late
for dinner, and I need a little freshening up."

He went to the living room window again and gazed, with thoughtful,
slightly sad eyes, out toward the mountains.

"These policemen!" he was thinking contemptuously. "They don't know how
to make blockheads tell what they can tell. There are ways--and ways."

CHAPTER XIV

THE PAWN BROKER TAKES THE TRAIL

Frank Abrahamson, pawn broker and junk dealer, responded at once to
Braceway's warm smile. The Jew had his racial respect for keenness and
clean-cut ability. He liked this man who, dressed like a dandy, spoke
with the air of authority.

"The fellow with the gold tooth?" he replied to Braceway's request for
information. "Was there anything peculiar about him? Why, yes. He was
clothed in peculiarities."

The pawn broker, thin, round-shouldered, with a great hook-nose and
cavernous, bright eyes, spoke rapidly, without an accent, punctuating his
sentences with thrusts and dartings and waves of his two hands. His
fifty-five years had not lessened his vitality.

"You see, Mr. Braceway, we pawn brokers, we have to observe our
customers. We become judges of human nature. At the best, we have a hard
time making a living." Somehow, with his smile, he discounted this
statement. "And we come to judge men as closely as we examine jewels and
precious metals. You see?"

Braceway saw. He lit a cigarette and stepped to the door to throw away
the match. The Jew appreciated the thoughtfulness. Trash on the floor
made the morning task of sweeping up harder.

"Now," continued Abrahamson, expressing with one movement of his arm
tolerant ridicule, "this man with the gold tooth and the brown beard--he
thought he was disguised. By gracious! it was funny. A fellow like me
takes one look at him and sees the disguise. The gold tooth--that was
false, fake. When he talked to me, it was all I could do to keep from
reaching across the counter and pushing that tooth more firmly into his
jaw. Gold is heavy, you see. I was afraid it might drop down on my
showcase and break some glass."

Abrahamson laughed. So did Braceway.

"And his beard, Mr. Braceway? That was better. To the ordinary
observer, it might have looked natural--but not to me. Oh, yes; he was
disguised--too