Stretton, you'll go in the front door!" For that--with me
shut up to die in Thompson's stope, and not one other soul alive to
interfere with him--was the last thing Macartney would think to lock!
Nor had he. The latch lifted just as usual, and I walked in.

The long passage through the shack was dark; and, after the storm
outside, dead silent. It was empty, too, as the living room was empty;
but what I thought of was my dream girl's door. That was open a
foot-wide space, and somebody inside it sobbed sickeningly. But if
Macartney were there he was not speaking. I daresay I forgot I had no
gun to kill him with. I crept forward in the soundless moccasins I had
reason to thank heaven were my only wear and suddenly felt Collins
beside me, in his stocking feet.

"Hang on," he breathed; "I tell you he isn't there! If he were, you
couldn't get him. One shout, and he'd have the whole gang out on us!"

I knew afterwards that he'd stubbed his toe on Marcia Wilbraham's little
revolver she'd dropped on the passage floor, and was ready to keep my
back if the gang did come; but then I hardly heard him. I stood rooted
at Paulette's door, staring in; for Paulette was not there--Macartney
was not there! What I saw was Marcia Wilbraham with her back to me,
crying hysterically, as I might have known Paulette would never cry, and
flinging out of a trunk, as if Paulette were dead or gone, every poor
little bit of clothes and oddments that were my dream girl's own!

I can't write what that made me feel. Ribbons, bits of laces, little
blue stockings, shoes, grew into a heap. And I would have been fool
enough to jump in on Marcia and shake out of her how she dared to touch
them, whether Paulette were dead or alive, if Collins had not gripped me
hard.

"The emeralds," he muttered. "She's rooting for them!"

I had pretty well forgotten there ever were any emeralds, and I stared
at him like a fool.

"Van Ruyne's emeralds--she thinks Miss Paulette has 'em," Collins's lips
explained soundlessly. "And they're round Macartney's own neck--I saw
them! Dunn and I were going to swipe them, only we couldn't."

I damned the emeralds. What I wanted of Marcia was to find out what had
become of Paulette. But Collins gripped me harder. "Let her see you, and
you'll never know," he breathed fiercely. "She'd give one yell, and we'd
be done. Macartney's either got the girl and Charliet, or they're lost
in the snow and he's hunting for them. Let's get some