s fixed upon the
pathetically plain little woman. Never before had she noticed the
lifeless hair strained from the colourless tan of the thin face, the
lustreless eyes, the ill-fitting, faded calico wrapper that dropped in
meaningless folds from the spare figure. Madame waited patiently for
Elise to speak, or to keep silence as she chose. For a moment only Elise
stood. The next instant Madame felt the strong young arms about her,
felt hot, decided kisses upon her cheeks. Madame was surprised. Elise
was fierce with determination. Elise was doing penance. Madame did not
know it.

Elise left Madame standing bewildered, and darted upstairs to her little
room. She flung herself on her bed and fought--fought with ghostly,
flitting shadows that elusively leered from darker shades, grasped at
fleeting phantoms that ranged themselves beside the minatory demons,
until at last she grew tired and slept.

Elise had left the Blue Goose in the morning, a white-winged, erratic
craft, skimming the sparkling, land-locked harbours of girlhood. She
returned, and already the first lifting swells beyond the sheltering bar
were tossing her in their arms. She had entered the shoreless ocean of
womanhood.

Pierre passed from the corridor to the bar-room. He glanced from the bar
to the gaming-tables, where a few listless players were engaged at
cards, and finally stepped out upon the broad piazza. He glanced at
Morrison, who was following Firmstone with a look of malignant hatred.

"Meestaire Firmstone, he bin come from ze mine?"

"To hell with Firmstone!" growled Morrison. He turned and entered the
saloon.

Pierre followed him with knowing eyes.

"To hell wiz Firmstone, heh?" He breathed softly. "_Bien!_"

Pierre stood looking complacently over the broken landscape. Much
understanding was coming to him. The harmlessness of the dove radiated
from his beaming face, but the wisdom of the serpent was shining in his
eyes.

CHAPTER XI

_The Devil's Elbow_

If Firmstone had flattered himself that his firm but just treatment of
Luna in the case of the stolen ore had cleared his path of difficulties
he would have been forced by current events to a rude awakening. He had
been neither flattered nor deceived. He knew very well that a prop put
under an unstable boulder may obscure the manifestation of gravity; but
he never deceived himself with the thought that it had been eliminated.
The warming-up process, recommended by Pierre, was