Don't come any other way. If you do, you won't see me."

"I'm not afraid of you, Mr. de Spain, and I'll come as you say.
There's only one thing I should like to ask. It would be as much as my
life is worth to be seen talking to you. And there are other good
reasons why I shouldn't like to have it known I _had_ talked to you.
Would you mind putting out the lights before I come up--I mean, in the
front of the house and in the room where we talk?"

"Not in the least. I mean--I am always willing to take a chance
against any other man's. But I warn you, come prepared to take care of
yourself."

"If you will do as I ask, no harm will come to any one."

De Spain heard the receiver hung up at the other end of the wire. He
signalled the operator hastily, called for his office, asked for
Lefever, and, failing to get him, got hold of Bob Scott. To him he
explained rapidly what had occurred, and what he wanted. "Get up to
Grant and Rancherio, Bob, as quick as the Lord will let you. Come by
the back streets. There's a high mulberry hedge at the southwest
corner you can get behind. This chap may have been talking for
somebody else. Anyway, look the man over when he passes under the
arc-light. If it is Sassoon or Gale Morgan, come into Jeffries's house
by the rear door. Wait in the kitchen for my call from the
living-room, or a shot. I'll arrange for your getting in."

Leaving the telephone, de Spain rejoined Nan in the living-room. He
told her briefly of the expected visit and explained, laughingly, that
his caller had asked to have the lights out and to see him alone.

Nan, standing close to him, her own hand on his shoulder and her
curling hair against his scarred cheek, asked questions about the
incident because he seemed to be holding something back. She professed
to be satisfied when he requested her to go up to her room and
explained it was probably one of the men coming to tell about some
petty thieving on the line or of a strike brewing among the drivers.
He made so little of the incident that Nan walked up the stairs on de
Spain's arm reassured. When he kissed her at her room door and turned
down the stairs again, she leaned in the half-light over the banister,
waving one hand at him and murmuring the last caution: "Be careful,
Henry, won't you?"

"Dearie, I'm always careful."

"'Cause you're all I've got now," she whispered.

"You're all I've got, Nan, girl."

"I haven't got any home--or anything--just you. Don'