? No, sir!"

She would have given a good deal to retract that sentence, for it washed
the face of Landis white with jealousy.

Surely Donnegan had built greater than he knew.

And suddenly he was there in the midst of the house. No one had stopped
him--at least, no one had interfered with his servant. Big George had on
a white suit and a dappled green necktie; he stood directly behind his
master and made him look like a small boy. For Donnegan was in black,
and he had a white neckcloth wrapped as high and stiffly as an
old-fashioned stock. Altogether he was a queer, drab figure compared
with the brilliant Donnegan of that afternoon. He looked older, more
weary. His lean face was pale; and his hair flamed with redoubled ardor
on that account. Never was hair as red as that, not even the hair of
Lord Nick, said the people in Milligan's this night.

He was perfectly calm even in the midst of that deadly silence. He stood
looking about him. He saw Gloster, the real estate man, and bowed to him
deliberately.

For some reason that drew a gasp.

Then he observed a table which was apparently to his fancy and crossed
the floor with a light, noiseless step, big George padding heavily
behind him. At the little round table he waited until George had drawn
out the chair for him and then he sat down. He folded his arms lightly
upon his breast and once more surveyed the scene, and big George drew
himself up behind Donnegan. Just once his eyes rolled and flashed
savagely in delight at the sensation that they were making, then the
face of George was once again impassive.

If Donnegan had not carried it off with a certain air, the whole
entrance would have seemed decidedly stagey, but The Corner, as it was,
found much to wonder at and little to criticize. And in the West grown
men are as shrewd judges of affectation as children are in other places.

"Putting on a lot of style, eh?" said Jack Landis, and with fierce
intensity he watched the face of Nelly Lebrun.

For once she was unguarded.

"He's superb!" she exclaimed. "The big fellow is going to bring a drink
for him."

She looked up, surprised by the silence of Landis, and found that his
face was actually yellow.

"I'll tell you something. Do you remember the little red-headed tramp
who came in here the other night and spoke to me?"

"Very well. You seemed to be bothered."

"Maybe. I dunno. But that's the man--the one who's sitting over there
now all dressed up--the m