ment in a rent
in its padded seat, out of sight underneath. Next he filled his
pockets with other papers signed by Saurez. Last, he hastily tore open
the little telephone book and ran a forefinger down the H's.

"Doctor Hosmer's, hurry," he exclaimed. "Number F28."

Blows were already sounding on the rear door, but the lock was strong
and resisted. Of all the persons he knew Janet Hosmer was the only one
he could trust to keep her word. And he dare not wait until Weir could
come.

"Is this you, Janet? Martinez talking," he said, when he heard her
answer. "Listen. I'm at my office; men are trying to break in to get
a paper valuable for Mr. Weir's defense. They must not get it. He's to
be arrested and tried for murder of the man he killed. You and I know
he's innocent. This is a life and death matter. The paper is hidden in
the old chair. The men are breaking down the door. I'll get them away
long enough for you to come and obtain it. Give it to Weir--at once,
to-night, immediately. Promise me you will, promise! My own life
probably hangs on it. Return to your house and stay for half an hour
and if he hasn't arrived by that time, go to the dam. Thank you, thank
you--from my heart! Start now."

The words had tumbled out in an agitated stream, occupying but a few
seconds. The panels were splintering in the door now, as the ax
smashed a way through. Martinez had no need to look up Weir's number;
and it was in a strain of terror and excitement that he waited for the
connection.

"See Janet Hosmer at once," he shot at the engineer, followed by the
rest of the warning already quoted which had so electrifying an effect
upon Steele Weir.

But the words had broken off abruptly. For as the door crashed off its
hinges Martinez dropped the telephone receiver and darted for the
front entrance, shooting back the bolt and flinging it open. He almost
plunged into Vorse who was on guard there.

"Stand still," the man ordered. And Martinez kept the spot as if
congealed, for in the saloon-keeper's hand was a revolver with an
exceedingly large muzzle.

Burkhardt burst in, ax still in hand, eyes bloodshot with rage. Vorse
turned and closed the front door. Then he glanced over the lawyer's
table and ran a hand into his inside coat pocket bulging with
documents. He glanced through one or two.

"Here's what we're after," said he. "We'll take him to my place where
we can quietly settle the matter." His eyes rested on the Mexican with