the living-room of the ranch house
with his hands tied to permit of the guard leaving them together.

Now that all Bud's prophecies in regard to the man had been fulfilled,
she feared him, and one glance at his dark, contorted face as he was led
in increased this fear.

For his part the very sight of this sweet, quiet girl for whom he had
waited so long, and through whose lover he was now doomed, brought a very
eruption of rage. His lips parted and bared his teeth, his eyes were
bloodshot, and his swarthy face worked with fury.

"Mike, I'm sorry to see you here like this," said Juliet gently.

"A lot you are!" he sneered brutally. "You're tickled to death. Hope to
see me swing, too, I suppose?"

"Don't talk like that," she protested, horrified at the change in the man.
"I'm going to try to see what I can do for you, though Heaven knows you
don't deserve much."

Fury choked him and prevented a reply. At last he managed to articulate.

"What do yuh want of me?" he growled.

"I want you to tell me about a letter that I received a few days ago. It
was brought here by a man by the name of Skidmore, who takes pictures."

At the identification of the letter, Stelton's eyes glittered and his
mouth grinned cruelly.

"What do yuh want to know about it?" he asked.

"First I want to know why you wrote it?"

"I didn't write it," he snarled.

"Well, then, why you had Caldwell write it?"

"How do you know I had Caldwell write it?"

His tone was nasty and she could see that he was enjoying the misery he
caused her.

But though Juliet was humbled, she was none the less a daughter of her
father, and at Stelton's tone and manner her imperious anger flashed up.

"Look here, Stelton," she said in a cold, even tone, "please remember who
I am and treat me with respect. If you speak to me again as you have this
afternoon I will call those men in and have you quirted up against a tree.
If you don't believe me, try it."

But Stelton was beyond speech. All the blood in him seemed to rush to his
head and distend the veins there. He struggled with his bonds so furiously
that the girl rose to her feet in alarm. Then she walked to the library
table, opened the drawer and took out a long, wooden-handled .45.

With this in her possession she resumed her seat. Presently the foreman,
unable to free his hands, ceased his struggles through sheer exhaustion.

"I know you made Caldwell write that letter," she said, balancing the gun,