the very fact that there _was_ a connection added a more
sinister note to the escapade of the exploded tire and the pursuing
sheriff; as he walked along, his gaze far ahead, Fairchild found
himself wondering whether there could be more than mere coincidence in
it all, whether she was a part of the Rodaine schemes and the Rodaine
trickery, whether--

But he ceased his wondering to turn sharply into a near-by drug store,
there absently to give an order at the soda fountain and stand watching
the pair who had stopped just in front of him on the corner. She was
the same girl; there could be no doubt of that, and he raged inwardly
as she chatted and chaffed with the man who looked down upon her with a
smiling air of proprietorship which instilled instant rebellion in
Fairchild's heart. Nor did he know the reason for that, either.

After a moment they parted, and Fairchild gulped at his fountain drink.
She had hesitated, then with a quick decision turned straight into the
drug store.

"Buy a ticket, Mr. McCauley?" she asked of the man behind the counter.
"I 've sold twenty already, this morning. Only five more, and my work
's over."

"Going to be pretty much of a crowd, is n't there?" The druggist was
fishing in his pocket for money. Fairchild, dallying with his drink
now, glanced sharply toward the door and went back to his refreshment.
She was standing directly in the entrance, fingering the five remaining
tickets.

"Oh, everybody in town. Please take the five, won't you? Then I 'll
be through."

"I 'll be darned if I will, 'Nita!" McCauley backed against a shelf
case in mock self-defense. "Every time you 've got anything you want
to get rid of, you come in here and shove it off on me. I 'll be gosh
gim-swiggled if I will. There 's only four in my family and four 's
all I 'm going to take. Fork 'em over--I 've got a prescription to
fill." He tossed four silver dollars on the showcase and took the
tickets. The girl demurred.

"But how about the fifth one? I 've got to sell that too--"

"Well, sell it to him!" And Fairchild, looking into the soda-fountain
mirror, saw himself indicated as the druggist started toward the
prescription case. "I ain't going to let myself get stuck for another
solitary, single one!"

There was a moment of awkward silence as Fairchild gazed intently into
his soda glass, then with a feeling of queer excitement, set it on the
marble counter and turned. Anita Richmond had