poon
about in his emptied coffee cup, and stared back at her with a face
almost as colorless as her own. The bride glanced from one to the other
of them, and spoke sharply,

"What's the matter with you two? You're not uneasy about Worth's
callers, are you?"

"No-no-no--" Vandeman was the first to come out of it, responding to her
voice a good deal as if she dashed cold water in his face, his eyes
breaking away from Barbara's, his lips parted in a nervous smile. He ran
a hand through his hair--an inelegant gesture for him at table--and
laughed a little.

"We ought to be in there," Barbara said to me, a curious stress in her
voice.

"How funny you talk, Barbie," Skeet quavered. "What do you think's
wrong?" And Ina spoke decidedly,

"Worth is one person in the world who can certainly take care of
himself, and would rather be let alone."

"If you think there is anything we should do--?" Vandeman began
anxiously, and Skeet took a look around at our faces and fairly wailed,

"What is it? What's the matter? What do you think they're doing to Worth
in there, Barbie?"

"I'd think they were arresting him," Barbara said in a low, choked tone,
"Only they don't know--"

"Arresting him!" I broke in on her, startled, getting halfway to my
feet; then as remembrance came to me, sinking back with, "Certainly not.
The murderer of Thomas Gilbert is already in the county jail. I arrested
Eddie Hughes this morning."

"You arrested--Eddie Hughes!" It was a cry from Barbara. The cold little
hand was jerked from mine. Twisting around in her chair, she stared at
me with a look that made me cold. "Then you've moved those two steel
bolts for Cummings."

I jumped to my feet. On the instant the door opened, and in it stood
Worth, steady enough, but his brown tanned face was strangely bleached.

"Jerry," he spoke briefly. "I want you. The sheriff's come for me."

CHAPTER XXVI

MRS. BOWMAN SPEAKS

Midnight in the sheriff's office at San Jose. And I had to telephone
Barbara. She'd be waiting up for my message. The minute I heard her
voice on the wire, I plunged in:

"Yes, yes, yes; done all I could. A horse can do no more. They've got
Worth. I--" The words stuck in my throat; but they had to come out--"I
left him in a cell."

A sound came over the wire; whether speech or not, it was something I
couldn't get.

"He's taking it like a man and a soldier, girl," I hurried. "Not a word
out of him about my having gone counter