beside Weir, the machine went on,
turning into a side street and vanishing. To Madden there was nothing
unusual in the circumstance, and he only noted the surprise and
silence along the street at the engineer's passage. The Mexicans would
know the man wasn't yet arrested at any rate, he thought. But he
should like to learn what was the purpose in bringing them all to
town! He would keep an eye open for any lynching nonsense if it were
attempted.

Weir and Martinez were hastening to Judge Gordon's house, for shortly
before the engineer had received an unexpected call from Pollock for
him to join him there. Evidently the eastern lawyer had turned a card
of some sort; and Weir had gone at once, wondering what the meeting
might portend. The sight of Martinez, free and composed of hearing,
walking along the street, further amazed him.

He perceived, however, when the lawyer stepped out to the car from
Vorse's place that he was pale, his mouth tight-drawn and his eyes
glittering.

"You got my message?" the latter asked, quickly.

"The telephone message, yes. Janet Hosmer got the paper also."

"They dragged me to Vorse's cellar," Martinez whispered fiercely.
"They beat me with their fists, Vorse and Burkhardt. Then they tied me
and squeezed my eyeballs till I could stand the pain no longer and
told. I've been there ever since, bound and without food or water, the
devils! Sorenson came with them last night, afterwards. And now he and
Vorse came again--there they are back there in the bar yet--and gave
me a draft on a Chicago bank for a thousand dollars and said to get
out and stay out of New Mexico and never open my mouth about what had
happened."

"Get in with me," Weir ordered.

At Judge Gordon's house the lawyer said:

"You are going in here? He's one of them."

"I know it. Come in, however. I may need you. You're not going to
leave San Mateo, but there's no reason why you shouldn't cash the
draft. That's only part of the damages you'll make them pay for what
you underwent."

"It isn't money I want from them," Martinez replied, between his
teeth.

Judge Gordon lived in a rambling adobe house two squares from the
Hosmer dwelling. It was old but had been kept in good repair, and as
he had never married he had lived comfortably enough with an old
Mexican pair as servants. One of these, the woman, admitted the
visitors at their knock and conducted them, as if expected, to the
Judge's study, a long room lined with