n't understand . . ."

"You don't? You mean that he hasn't done any talking to you about me?"

"Oh!" And now suddenly she did understand. "You mean how you are not
Caleb Patten at all but Charles? How you are no physician but liable
to prosecution for illegal practising?"

Could she use him or could she not? That was what she was thinking,
over and over.

"Where is he?" demanded Patten a little suspiciously. "What is he
doing? What are you doing out here alone?"

"He is asleep," she told him.

Patten laughed again.

"Your little parties are growing commonplace then!"

"Charles Patten," she cut in coolly, "I have stood enough of your
insult. Be still a moment and let me think."

He stared at her but for a little; his own mind busy, was silent.
Could she make use of this blind instrument which fate had thrust into
her hand? She began to believe that she could.

"Charles Patten," she went on, a new vigor in her tone, "Mr. Norton
knows enough concerning you to make you a deal of trouble. Just how
long a term in the State prison he can get for you I don't know.
But . . ."

"Haven't I found the way to shut his mouth!" he said sharply.

"I think not. Before your slanders could travel far we could have
found Father Jose and have been married. But let me finish. You have
practised here for upward of two years, haven't you? You have made
money, you have a ranch of your own. That is one thing to keep in
mind. The other is that more than one of your patients have died. I
believe, Charles Patten, that it would be a simple matter to have the
district attorney convict you of murder. That's the second thing to
remember."

Patten shifted uneasily. Then she knew that it had been God who had
sent him. When he sought to bluster, she cut him short.

"In the morning, as soon as there is light enough," she said, wondering
at her own calmness, "I am going to perform a capital operation upon
Mr. Norton. It will be without his knowledge and consent. If he lives
and you will give up your practice and retire to your ranch or what
business pleases you, I will guarantee that he does not prosecute you
for what has passed. If he dies . . ."

"If he dies"--he snatched the words from her--"it will be murder!"

". . . you would be free from prosecution," she continued, quite as
though he had made no interruption, "I rather imagine that I should
die, too. And, as you say, I would be liable for murder. He is asl