cipio neared the house from which shone the larger
light. As he drew towards it he saw its outline against the starlight.
It was a large, two-storied frame house of weather-boarding, with a
veranda fronting it. There were several windows on the hither side of
it, but light shone only in one of them. It was by this light the
horseman saw a tie-post some yards from the house. And without
hesitation he rode up to it, and, dismounting, secured his mare. Then,
following Conroy's directions, he proceeded on foot to the back of the
house where he was to find an open door. He turned the angle of the
building. Yes, the door was there all right, but whereas Conroy had
said that James was lying on his blankets reading, he now discovered
that the doorway was filled by that handsome thief's presence.

Before he realized what had happened, Scipio found himself in the full
glare of the light from the doorway, and James was smiling down upon
his yellow head with a curious blending of insolence and curiosity.

"I was wondering when you'd get around," he said, without shifting his
position. Then, as Scipio made no answer, he bestirred himself. "Come
right in," he added, and, lounging out of the doorway, he dropped back
into the room. "You'll find things a bit untidy," he went on calmly,
"you see I'm making changes in my domestic arrangements. This is
temporary, I guess. However, if you don't just mind that, why--come
right in."

The man's whole manner was one of good-humored indifference. There was
an unruffled assurance about him that was quite perfect, if studied.
Scipio's presence there seemed the last thing of concern to him. And
the effect of his manner on his visitor entirely upset all the
latter's preconceived intentions. Astonishment was his first feeling.
Then a sudden diffidence seized him, a diffidence that was nearly akin
to fear of his rival. But this passed in a moment, and was instantly
replaced by a hot rush of blood through his small body. All his
pictured interview died out of his recollections, and, in place of
that calmness with which he had intended to meet the man, he found his
pulses hammering and hot anger mounting to his head. The commonest of
human passions stirred in him, and he felt it would be good to hurt
this man who had so wronged him.

"Where's my wife?" he demanded, with a sudden fierceness.

"Oh--it's that. Say, come right in?"

James was still smiling pleasantly. This time Scipio accepted the
in