ays of deceit she smiles--like Mona Lisa. But
was the great Leonardo deceived by the smile of his wife when she posed
for him so sweetly? No, he read her thoughts--how she was thinking of
another--and his master hand wove them in. There she smiles to-day,
smooth and pretty and cryptic; but Leonardo, the man, worked with heavy
heart as he laid bare the tragedy of his love. The message was for her,
if she cared to read it, or for him, that rival for her love; or, if
their hearts were pure and free from guilt, then there was no message at
all. She was just a pretty woman, soft and gentle and smiling--as
Virginia Huff had smiled.

She had not smiled often, Wiley Holman remembered it now, as he went
flying across the desert, and always there was something behind; but
when she had looked up at Blount and taken his fat hand, then he had
read her heart at a glance. If he had taken his punishment and not
turned back he would have been spared this great ache in his breast; but
no, he was not satisfied, he could not believe it, and so he had
received a worse wound. She had been playing with him all the time and,
when the supreme moment arrived, she had landed him like a trout; and
then, when she had left him belly-up from his disaster, she had turned
to Blount and smiled. There was no restraint now; she smiled to the
teeth; and Blount and the Directors smiled.

Wiley cursed to himself as he bored into the wind and burned up the road
to Keno. The mine was nothing; he could find him another one, but
Virginia had played him false. He did not mind losing her--he could find
a better woman--but how could he save his lost pride? He had played his
hand to win and, when it came to the showdown, she had slipped in the
joker and cleaned him. The Widow would laugh when she heard the news,
but she would not laugh at him. The road lay before him and his gas
tanks were full. He would gather up his belongings and drift. He stepped
on the throttle and went roaring through the town, but at the bottom of
the hill he stopped. The mine was shut down, not a soul was in sight,
and yet he had left but a few hours before.

He toiled wearily up the trail, where he had caught Virginia running and
held her fighting in his arms, and the world turned black at the
thought. What madness had this been that had kept him from suspecting
her when she had opposed his every move from the start. Had she not
wrecked his engine and ruined his mill? Then why had he trus