e would not lose sight of it until he had placed it in
the hands of the girl of the station.

The dark shadow of the man he had just robbed was hovering at his
windows. Magee turned hastily to the door. As he did so it opened, and
Hayden entered. He carried a pistol in his hand; his face was hard,
cruel, determined; his usually expressionless eyes lighted with pleasure
as they fell on the package in Mr. Magee's possession.

"It seems I'm just in time," he said, "to prevent highway robbery."

"You think so?" asked Magee.

"See here, young man," remarked Hayden, glancing nervously over his
shoulder, "I can't waste any time in talk. Does that money belong to
you? No. Well, it does belong to me. I'm going to have it. Don't think
I'm afraid to shoot to get it. The law permits a man to fire on the
thief who tries to fleece him."

"The law, did you say?" laughed Billy Magee. "I wouldn't drag the law
into this if I were you, Mr. Hayden. I'm sure it has no connection with
events on Baldpate Mountain. You would be the last to want its attention
to be directed here. I've got this money, and I'm going to keep it."

Hayden considered a brief moment, and then swore under his breath.

"You're right," he said. "I'm not going to shoot. But there are other
ways, you whipper-snapper--" He dropped the revolver into his pocket and
sprang forward. For the second time within ten minutes Mr. Magee
steadied himself for conflict.

But Hayden stopped. Some one had entered the room through the window
behind Magee. In the dim light of the single candle Magee saw Hayden's
face go white, his lip twitch, his eyes glaze with horrible surprise.
His arms fell limply to his sides.

"Good God! Kendrick!" he cried.

The voice of the man with whom Billy Magee had but a moment before
struggled on the balcony answered:

"Yes, Hayden. I'm back."

Hayden wet his lips with his tongue.

"What--what brought you?" he asked, his voice trailing off weakly on the
last word.

"What brought me?" Suddenly, as from a volcano that had long been cold,
fire blazed up in Kendrick's eyes. "If a man knew the road from hell
back home, what would it need to bring him back?"

Hayden stood with his mouth partly open; almost a grotesque picture of
terror he looked in that dim light. Then he spoke, in an odd strained
tone, more to himself than to any one else.

"I thought you were dead," he said. "I told myself you'd never come
back. Over and over--in the night--I