it. I am Jack Keith." No expression of recognition
came into the face of the other, and Keith added curtly, "Shall we
talk?"

There was a moment's silence, and then Willoughby swung his feet over
the edge of the bed onto the floor.

"Fire away," he said shortly, "until I see what the game is about."

Chapter XVIII. Interviewing Willoughby

Cooly, yet without in the least comprehending how best to proceed,
Keith drew toward him the only chair in the room, and sat down. Miss
Hope--more widely known as Christie Maclaire--had claimed this drunken
lad as her brother, but, according to Hawley, he had vehemently denied
any such relationship. Yet there must be some previous association
between the two, and what this was the plainsman proposed to discover.
The problem was how best to cause the fellow to talk frankly--could he
be reached more easily by reference to the girl or the gambler? Keith
studying the sullen, obstinate face confronting him, with instinctive
antagonism over his intrusion, swiftly determined on the girl.

"It was not very nice of me to come in on you this way," he began,
apologetically, "but you see I happen to know your sister."

"My sister? Oh, I guess not!"

"Yes, but I do," throwing a confidence into his tone he was far from
feeling, "Miss Hope and I are friends."

The boy sprang to his feet, his face flushed.

"Oh, you mean Hope? Do you know her? Say, I thought you were giving me
that old gag about Christie Maclaire."

"Certainly not; who is she?"

"That's more than I know; fellow came to me at Carson, and said he'd met
my sister on a stage west of Topeka. I knew he was lyin', because she's
home over in Missouri. Finally, I got it out of him that she claimed to
be my sister, but her name was Maclaire. Why, I don't even know her, and
what do you suppose she ever picked me out for her brother for?"

He was plainly puzzled, and perfectly convinced it was all a mistake.
That his sister might have left home since he did, and drifted West
under an assumed name, apparently never occurred to him as possible.
To Keith this was the explanation, and nothing could be more natural,
considering her work, yet he did not feel like shattering the lad's
loyalty. Faith in the sister might yet save him.

"Perhaps the fellow who told you," he hazarded blindly, speaking the
first thought which came to his mind, "had some reason to desire to make
you think this Maclaire girl was your sister."

The