differ from his firm, light
tread. The handle of the door turned and a man who was not Angus stood
framed in the opening--a man who wore a handkerchief across his face,
whose eyes, invisible beneath the shadow of a broad hatbrim, peered at
her through holes cut in the fabric.

Though a horrible, sinking feeling of nervousness assailed her, she did
not cry out. She regarded the intruder in silence. As he came into the
room she stared at him--at his leather chaps, at the gun in its holster,
at his hands, taking in every little detail. He spoke.

"Don't be scared," he said in deep tones which she judged were
unnatural. "You won't be hurt."

"I'm not afraid," she replied, and was surprised to find her voice quite
steady. "What do you want?"

"I want those deeds."

He could mean only the deeds Turkey had given her. Then he must be an
emissary of Braden. Obviously it was not Braden himself. But how could
he know who had the deeds?

"Now, listen," the masked man added as she did not reply: "I know you
have them. I know they are here in this house. You'll save trouble by
handing them over."

"I'll do nothing of the sort," Faith told him; "and you had better go
before my husband comes home."

The masked man laughed. "Your husband won't be home for a while. If you
won't give them to me I'll find them myself."

"Very well," Faith replied. "But don't break anything, please."

"You've got nerve, all right," the man conceded. As he spoke another man
similarly masked entered, standing by the door. The first turned to him
and they held a whispered conversation. "Well, we'll look for 'em," the
first man announced. "If you're sensible you'll just sit quiet."

Faith sat quietly while they took a leisurely survey of the room. Her
writing desk in the corner was their first objective point. Suddenly it
came to her that their manner of procedure was too leisurely. They did
not fear interruption. She remembered the first man's words when she had
spoken of her husband. Was his continued absence in some way due to
them? She felt a sickening apprehension, a feeling of desertion, of
helplessness.

She began to study the intruders, to find if she could note something by
which to identify them. There was nothing recognizable about the first.
The second was a big man. His face was quite invisible. A riding slicker
concealed most of his figure. She had not heard his voice. And yet she
found something elusively familiar in his presence.