clear. In Avery he had recognized, by that
instinct which so strangely divines the personalities one meets, an
enemy from the start; Dorne's attitude toward him, of course, was not
yet defined; as for Harriet Dorne--he could not tell whether she was
prepared to be his enemy or friend.

CHAPTER IV

TRUCE

The Eastern Express, mantled in a seething whirl of snow, but still
maintaining very nearly its scheduled time and even regaining a few
lost minutes from hour to hour as, now well past the middle of the
State, it sped on across the flatter country in its approach to the
mountains, proceeded monotonously through the afternoon. Eaton watched
the chill of the snow battle against the warmth of the double windows
on the windward side of the car, until finally it conquered and the
windows became--as he knew the rest of the outside of the cars must
have been long before--merely a wall of white. This coating,
thickening steadily with the increasing severity of the storm as they
approached the Rockies, dimmed the afternoon daylight within the car to
dusk.

Presently all became black outside the windows, and the passengers from
the rear cars filed forward to the dining car and then back to their
places again. Eaton took care to avoid the Dorne party in the diner.
Soon the porter began making up the berths to be occupied that night;
but as yet no one was retiring. The train was to reach Spokane late in
the evening; there would be a stop there for half an hour; and after
the long day on the train, every one seemed to be waiting up for a walk
about the station before going to bed. But as the train slowed, and
with a sudden diminishing of the clatter of the fishplates under its
wheels and of the puffings of exhausted steam, slipped into the lighted
trainsheds at the city, Eaton sat for some minutes in thought. Then he
dragged his overcoat down from its hook, buttoned it tightly about his
throat, pulled his traveling cap down on his head and left the car.
All along the train, vestibule doors of the Pullmans had been opened,
and the passengers were getting out, while a few others, snow-covered
and with hand-luggage, came to board the train. Eaton, turning to
survey the sleet-shrouded car he had left, found himself face to face
with Miss Dorne, standing alone upon the station platform.

Her piquant, beautiful face was half hidden in the collar of the great
fur coat she had worn on boarding the train, and her cheeks