one he was the antithesis
of the beefy scoundrel who sat opposite him. On the hand that toyed
carelessly with the fob of his watch flashed a diamond; another sparkled in
his cravat. His dark hair was sleek and well brushed; his bristly little
moustache was clipped in the latest fashion. He was not large. His hands,
as he made a gesture toward Quade, were of womanish whiteness. Casually, on
the street or in a Pullman, Aldous would have taken him for a gentleman.
Now, as he stared through the narrow slit between the bottom of the curtain
and the sill, he knew that he was looking upon one of the most dangerous
men in all the West. Quade was a villain. Culver Rann, quiet and cool and
suave, was a devil. Behind his depravity worked the brain which Quade
lacked, and a nerve which, in spite of that almost effeminate
immaculateness, had been described to Aldous as colossal.

Suddenly Quade turned, and Aldous saw that he was flushed and excited. He
struck the desk a blow with his fist. Culver Rann leaned back and smiled.
And John Aldous slipped away from the window.

His nerves were quivering; in the darkness he unbuttoned the pocket that
held his automatic. Through the window he had seen an open door behind
Rann, and his blood thrilled with the idea that had come to him. He was
sure the two partners in crime were discussing himself and MacDonald--and
Joanne. To hear what they were saying, to discover their plot, would be
three quarters of the fight won, if it came to a fight. The open door was
an inspiration.

Swiftly and silently he went to the rear of the house. He tried the door
and found it unlocked. Softly he opened it, swinging it inward an inch at
a time, and scarcely breathing as he entered. It was dark, and there was a
second closed door ahead of him. From beyond that he heard voices. He
closed the outer door so that he would not be betrayed by a current of air
or a sound from out of the night. Then, even more cautiously and slowly, he
began to open the second door.

An inch at first, then two inches, three inches--a foot--he worked the door
inward. There was no light in this second room, and he lay close to the
floor, head and shoulders thrust well in. Through the third and open door
he saw Quade and Culver Rann. Rann was laughing softly as he lighted a
fresh cigar. His voice was quiet and good humoured, but filled with a
banter which it was evident Quade was not appreciating.

"You amaze me," Rann was saying. "Yo