e, that he remained unaware that Timmons had left
the office, or that the Chinese man-of-all-work had silently tiptoed
down the stairs and was cautiously peering in through the open doorway
to make sure the coast was clear. Assured as to this, the wily
Oriental sidled noiselessly across the floor and paused beside him.

"Zis Meester Vest-c-ott?" he asked softly.

The miner looked up at the implacable face in surprise, lowering his
feet.

"That's my name, John; what is it?"

The messenger shook a folded paper out of his sleeve, thrust it into
the other's hand hastily, and, with a hurried glance about, started to
glide away as silently as he had come. Westcott stared at the note,
which was unaddressed.

"Sure this is for me, John?"

"Ally same sure--for Meester Vest-c-ott."

He vanished into the dark hall, and there was the faint clatter of his
shoes on the stairs.

Westcott, fully aroused, cast his glance about the deserted room, and
unfolded the paper which had been left in his fingers. His eyes took
in the few penciled words instantly.

Do not be angry. I had the best of reasons. Meet me near the lower
bridge at three o'clock. Very important.

S. D.

He read the lines over again, his lips emitting a low whistle, his eyes
darkening with sudden appreciation. Slowly he tore the paper into
strips, crossed the room, and flung the remnants into the stove. It
had been a trick, then, a bit of play-acting! But had it? Was not
this rather the real fraud--this sudden change of heart? Perhaps
something had occurred to cause the girl to realise that she had made a
mistake; to awaken her to a knowledge that a pretence at friendship
would serve her cause better than an open break.

This note might have a sinister purpose; be intended to deceive. No!
He would not believe this. All his old lurking faith in her came back
in a flash of revelation. He would continue to believe in her, trust
her, feel that some worthy purpose had influenced her strange action.
And, above all, he would be at the lower bridge on the hour set. He
was at the desk when Timmons returned.

"What do I owe you, old man?"

He paid the bill jokingly and in the best of humour, careful to tell
the proprietor that he was leaving for his mine and might not return
for several days. He possessed confidence that Timmons would make no
secret of this in Haskell after his departure. He was glad to notice
that Beaton observed him as he pa