he was growing more
and more afraid. The consummation of their present plot would only
plunge him deeper into the toils of the law if Matlock should, in case
of exposure, turn State's evidence. For another reason he was strangely
perturbed; that afternoon he had seen a face which was irritatingly
familiar but which he could not correctly place. In his avocation there
are only two facial classifications: those of absolute strangers, which
are to be studied with care, and those of people well known, which are
to be watched jealously. A gambler dare risk no middle path in the
physiognomy of his acquaintances; he must either know a face well or it
must be that of a total stranger. And for the life of him he could not
remember the time and place where he had formerly encountered it.
Somehow he felt a presentiment of coming evil and he chafed under it.
To-morrow he would make it his business to find out who and what that
dignified old Mexican was!

As he registered this mental resolution, the door opened and in walked
the object of his cogitations; he was accompanied by Lew Ballard and
another Mexican at sight of whom Coogan paled perceptibly. He knew them
both now! The elder man was Don Ramon Seguro, joint owner of the San
Christobal mine; the other was Don Luis Garcia, sheriff of Jalisco.

Coogan was no coward; he had been in many a tight place before and
escaped by reason of his brute courage and herculean strength. He
furtively felt of his hip pocket, then quietly arose and went forward
with extended hand. They had no proof of his killing Rafael de Tejada,
he thought rapidly; the only eyewitness, Pedro Rodriguez, was dead; and
he could fight extradition until such time as he could make his escape.
He resolved to brazen it out.

Affecting not to know the Mexicans, he shook Ballard's hand cordially.
"Ah, good evening, Mr. Ballard. I was just going to open a bottle in my
private office. Will your friends join us?" The marshall and his friends
would be delighted! Ballard nodded casually to Matlock as they passed
him. For some reason Coogan did not include him in the invitation.

At the moment of opening the wine they heard in the distance the faint
rattle of a fusillade of pistol shots. The Mexicans looked inquiringly
at Ballard but he dismissed the matter with a careless, "Oh, just some
drunken bunch of cowpunchers or railroad tarriers with more ammunition
than sense; that kind of thing is getting altogether too prevalent