hed out from
miners' windows, the scampering children ceased their clamor, and he
wandered through the darkness alone.

There was something he had forgotten, something big and significant, but
his tired brain refused to respond. It was part of the scheme to beat
Blount out of his stock, and the royalty from the shipments of ore;
and--yes, it had to do with Virginia. It was going to make her rich, and
both of them happy; but he could not recall it, at the moment. He was
worn out, weary with the seething thoughts which had rioted through his
mind all day, and he turned back dumbly to his office. It was dark and
cold and as he groped for his matchbox his hand encountered a strange
package. And yet it was not so strange--he seemed to remember it,
somehow. He struck a hasty match and looked. It was the package of stock
that he had sent to Virginia, but----The match burnt his fingers and he
dropped it with a curse. She had refused his offer of peace.

CHAPTER XIX

THE ENIGMA

The heights and depths of life are sounded by emotions--cold reason lags
behind. As thought cannot compass, so words cannot describe the
anguished spirit's flight; and whether it soars to ecstasy or sinks to
despair it comes back wide-eyed and silent. So any action which has been
prompted by passion cannot be explained by a calculating mind, and to
seek a reason where none exists is to stray still farther from the
truth. Virginia Huff was poor and waited on the table for what she could
eat and get to wear; and when she returned stock which was worth twelve
hundred dollars without even a note of thanks it was not for any reason
of the mind. It was a reason of the feelings, the soul, the human ego,
which drives our minds and bodies to their tasks; a reason that soared
up like a flaming aurora and stabbed the darkened sky with hate and
passion. It was nothing to reason about, and yet Wiley reasoned.

He put down the stocks and lit his lamp and examined the package
carefully. Then he looked inside for some note of explanation and
paused and swore to himself. No note was there, nor any sign that the
stocks had ever passed through her hands. He rose up craftily and
stepped out the door, passing silently from house to house, and then
as he came back he threw his door open and examined the snow for
tracks. If Death Valley Charley had failed of his mission, if he had
neglected to place the shares in her stocking and then sneaked back to
get rid of t