his report to the others. As before
not a word came to the ears which she strove futilely to make
inattentive. A certain quality in the speaker's voice drew fresh
speculation from her. He spoke quietly, with no single interruption from
the others and with a positiveness that was like a command, as though he
whom she had thought possibly a deputy were coolly telling both Pollard
and Cole Dalton what they should do, when they should do it and how. The
voice was arrogant, cool and confident.

Again the sheriff's voice floated up to her, raised a little, rasping
out what sounded like a protest. And Broderick's answer was another
short laugh, full of contempt and followed by a few emphatic, crisp
words which she did not catch.

That ended the consultation. She knew it from the silence which
followed the curt finality of Broderick's retort and from the scraping
of chair legs followed by the sound of the men pacing back and forth and
speaking in new, unguarded tones. Now their conversation came to her for
the first time.

"You'll be going out tonight, Dalton?" Pollard asked.

"No. The first thing in the morning."

"And you, Broderick?"

"I'll trot along tonight, Henry. But not," the cool voice carelessly,
"until I've had something to eat. I know you're going to ask me to stay
to supper!"

"What do you want to stay for, Ben?" demanded Pollard with something of
irritation in the question. "Haven't you got enough on your hands...."

Broderick's ready laugh, slow, easy, vaguely insolent, rose clearly to
Winifred's ears.

"You're sure a hospitable cuss," he retorted. "Don't be a hog on top of
it, Henry. I want to see that pretty niece of yours."

The girl's cheeks went red at the light tone. She waited to hear her
uncle's short rejoinder. And she heard nothing beyond the sheriff's
rasping chuckle.

When Mrs. Riddell called from the foot of the stairs that supper was
ready Winifred had fully made up her mind that she would not go down.
She heard the three men chatting lightly and decided that she would get
something to eat after they had finished and gone. But as though her
uncle had caught her thought he too came to the foot of the stairs,
calling to her.

"Winifred," he was saying, "supper's ready. Sheriff Dalton is here, and
Mr. Broderick, a friend of mine. I want you to tell them what you have
told me."

She hesitated a moment, biting her lip. Then she answered, "All right,
Uncle Henry; I'll be right down." She