idered as testimony, what you've said is sure important an'
conclusive. But I'm calculatin' thet the court will want to hev
explained why you stayed from eleven-thirty till one-thirty in thet
waitin'-room alone with Stewart."

His deliberate speech met with what Madeline imagined a remarkable
reception from Stewart, who gave a tigerish start; from Stillwell, whose
big hands tore at the neck of his shirt, as if he was choking; from
Alfred, who now strode hotly forward, to be stopped by the cold and
silent Nels; from Monty Price, who uttered a violent "Aw!" which was
both a hiss and a roar.

In the rush of her thought Madeline could not interpret the meaning
of these things which seemed so strange at that moment. But they were
portentous. Even as she was forming a reply to Hawe's speech she felt a
chill creep over her.

"Stewart detained me in the waiting-room," she said, clear-voiced as a
bell. "But we were not alone--all the time."

For a moment the only sound following her words was a gasp from Stewart.
Hawe's face became transformed with a hideous amaze and joy.

"Detained?" he whispered, craning his lean and corded neck. "How's
thet?"

"Stewart was drunk. He--"

With sudden passionate gesture of despair Stewart appealed to her:

"Oh, Miss Hammond, don't! don't! DON'T!..."

Then he seemed to sink down, head lowered upon his breast, in utter
shame. Stillwell's great hand swept to the bowed shoulder, and he turned
to Madeline.

"Miss Majesty, I reckon you'd be wise to tell all," said the old
cattleman, gravely. "There ain't one of us who could misunderstand any
motive or act of yours. Mebbe a stroke of lightnin' might clear this
murky air. Whatever Gene Stewart did that onlucky night--you tell it."

Madeline's dignity and self-possession had been disturbed by Stewart's
importunity. She broke into swift, disconnected speech:

"He came into the station--a few minutes after I got there. I asked-to
be shown to a hotel. He said there wasn't any that would accommodate
married women. He grasped my hand--looked for a wedding-ring. Then I saw
he was--he was intoxicated. He told me he would go for a hotel
porter. But he came back with a padre--Padre Marcos. The poor priest
was--terribly frightened. So was I. Stewart had turned into a devil. He
fired his gun at the padre's feet. He pushed me into a bench. Again he
shot--right before my face. I--I nearly fainted. But I heard him cursing
the padre--heard the padre pra