the lawyer?"

Waldstricker nodded.

"An' ye say she air livin' with him?"

"Well not exactly that, I suppose, but she's keeping house for him.
She's got her child there, too."

"Has, eh?" said Sandy, dryly.

A wicked look came over his face and he slouched back into his chair.
Ebenezer went to his office window and looked into the street.

"Want to earn some money, Letts?" he demanded, without turning around.

"You bet! Ye bet I do!"

Ebenezer returned to his desk and sat down again facing his visitor.

"You'll have to go about this business carefully."

"Trust me," promised the squatter.

"I am. There's a mystery about Young's house--I mean, there's some one
in it beside my brother-in-law, the Skinner girl, and the boy."

"Who air it?" The question was no perfunctory expression of interest.
Anything relating to Tess was vitally important.

"That's what I want you to find out. It's a man!"

"Mebbe it's the brat's pa," offered the other.

"No, it isn't, and by the way, you let up trying to find out about
that."

"What do ye mean?" interjected Sandy, sullenly.

"I mean I want that matter dropped."

Letts merely grunted, for to acquire that information was one of the
first things he intended to do, but there was no use telling the elder
so.

"What ye want?" he muttered.

"I'll give you a hundred dollars to find out the name of the other man
living at Young's."

"Done!" cried the squatter. "Do I get any of the dough, now?"

"Part of it, if you like," replied Waldstricker, slipping his hand into
his pocket. "But listen to me. You're to come directly back here and
tell me, when you find out. Discover his name, if you don't know the
man. Do you understand?"

"I does that. You leave it to me. Then, I'll settle with Tess Skinner."

"As you please about her," consented Waldstricker. "Go along now. I'm
busy."

CHAPTER XLV

ANDY VINDICATED

Lysander Letts left Waldstricker's office highly pleased. He was going
to see Tess, and he had twenty-five dollars in his pocket. In the long
hours of silent meditation in prison, he'd tried to outline that
meeting, and to figure out how he could work Waldstricker. His errand
provided for both contingencies.

He swaggered along the street, bumped into people roughly, and for his
rudeness gave them oaths instead of apologies. At an inlet saloon, he
displayed his money ostentatiously, and bought many drinks for himself
and the "setters." The squatter's