denounce him then and there, only it would have served
no purpose, and would probably have done much harm. Therefore he
contented himself with gazing into the inflamed depths of the man's
mysterious eyes with an intentness he had never yet bestowed upon
them, and while he looked all the horror of the scene in the office
stole over him again and made him shudder.

"Where is he--where is Jake?" the blind man asked, halting accurately
at the bedside.

The question was directed at no one in particular, but Tresler took it
upon himself to answer.

"Lying on the bed before you," he said coldly.

The man turned on him swiftly. "Ah--Tresler," he said.

Then he bent over the bed, and his hands groped over the dead man's
body till they came into contact with the congealing blood round the
wound in his stomach.

With a movement of repulsion he drew back sharply. "He's not dead?" he
questioned, with a queer eagerness, turning round to those about him.

"Yes, he is dead," replied Tresler, with unintentional solemnity.

"Who--who did it?"

The question came in a tense voice, sharper and more eagerly than the
preceding one.

"Anton," chorused the men, as though finding relief from their long
silence in the announcement. The crime was even secondary to the
personality of the culprit with them. Anton's name was uppermost in
their minds, and so they spoke it readily.

"Anton? And where is he? Have you got him?"

The rancher had turned about, and addressed himself generally.

"Anton has made off with one of your horses," said Tresler. "I tried
to get him, but he had too much start for me. I was on foot."

"Well, why are you all here? Have none of you sense enough to get
after him?"

"Arizona is after him, and, until the sheriff comes, he is sufficient.
He will never leave his trail."

There was no mistaking the significance Tresler conveyed in his last
remark. The rancher took him up sharply.

"What do you mean?"

"Arizona has no love for Anton."

"Ah! And Jake. Who found him? Who was there when he died?"

Marbolt's eyes had fixed themselves on Tresler's face. And the latter
had no hesitation in suiting his reply to his own purpose.

"I found him--dead; quite dead. His death must have been
instantaneous."

"So."

Marbolt turned back to the bed.

The rancher stood over the dead man in silence for some minutes. Then,
to Tresler's horror, he broke out into a low-voiced lamentation, the
hypocrisy of which made