wn a half-mile ahead
and veered abruptly into the Las Palmas gateway, Dave lifted Montrosa
to a run, wondering what pressing necessity could have induced the
prosecuting attorney to risk such a reckless burst of speed.

Dave told himself that he was unduly apprehensive; that Strange's
warnings had worked upon his nerves. Nevertheless, he continued to ride
so hard that almost before the dust had settled he, too, turned into
the shade of the palms.

Yes, there was excitement here; something was evidently very much
amiss, judging from the groups of ranch-hands assembled upon the porch.
They were clustered about the doors and windows, peering in. Briefly
they turned their faces toward Law; then they crowded closer, and he
perceived that they were not talking. Some of them had removed their
hats and held them in their hands.

Dave's knees shook under him as he dismounted; for one sick, giddy
instant the scene swam before his eyes; then he ran toward the house
and up the steps. He tried to frame a question, but his lips were stiff
with fright. Heedless of those in his path, he forced his way into the
house, then down the hall toward an open door, through which he saw a
room full of people. From somewhere came the shrill wailing of a woman;
the house was full of hushed voices and whisperings. Dave had but one
thought. From the depths of his being a voice called Alaire's name
until his brain rang with it.

A bed was in the room, and around it was gathered a group of
white-faced people. With rough hands Law cleared a way for himself, and
then stopped, frozen in his tracks. His arms relaxed, his fingers
unclenched, a great sigh whistled slowly from his lungs. Before him,
booted, spurred, and fully dressed, lay the dead body of Ed Austin.

Dave was still staring at the master of Las Palmas when the prosecuting
attorney spoke to him.

"God! This is terrible, isn't it?" he said. "He must have died
instantly."

"Who--did it?"

"We don't know yet. Benito found him and brought him in. He hasn't been
dead an hour."

Law ran his eyes over the room, and then asked, sharply, "Where is Mrs.
Austin?"

He was answered by Benito Gonzales, who had edged closer. "She's not
here, senor."

"Have you notified her?"

Benito shrugged. "There has been no time, it all happened so quickly--"

Some one interrupted, and Dave saw that it was the local
sheriff--evidently it was he who had waved from the speeding machine a
few moments befo