even in sleep, that finally
brought him to his elbow with a start.

Slipping out of bed he stepped quickly to his window. There were three
horses in the yard, saddled, sweaty and dusty. MacKelvey's heavy voice
came to him again from Leland's study.

He dressed swiftly, his eyes glittering. Spinning the cylinder of his
revolver, he shoved it into his pocket and into another pocket thrust
the thick pad of bank notes which had been under his pillow during the
night. Then he went back to the window.

He could hear Julia in the kitchen. He could hear Leland's voice now,
now MacKelvey's, then another man's. Was it Johnson's?

"That cursed woman," he muttered bitterly. "She double crossed me
after all. God! I was a fool!"

He did not hesitate. Kinsell was a detective, who had been in
Shandon's hire for six months. A hundred little things that had been
trifles at the time came back to him now to whisper that Kinsell had
known a long time. And Helga had given them the rest of the evidence
they lacked. Helga, a woman, had tricked him, had deceived him, had
made him love her in the only way love was possible to this man, and
then had laughed at him and doublecrossed him.

Making no sound he slipped out of the window, and stooping low so that
from no other window could he be seen, he ran around to the back of the
house. A glance at the saddled horses in the yard showed him that
their legs were shaking, that they were done up from a hard ride. He
moved on, further from the house, dodging behind a tree, stopping to
listen, to peer out, hearing the maddening beat, beat, beat of his own
heart. He must have a horse and then as Wayne Shandon had done, he
could disappear into this wilderness of rocks and trees, hide for weeks
or months, and at last get out of the country. Flight lay before him;
his quickened senses told him what lay behind unless he fled now and
swiftly.

"MacKelvey's a fool at best," he grunted, snatching at a ray of hope.
"Once I get on a horse--"

He was taking a chance but he had to take chances. Making a short
circuit he ran at last, still stooping as he ran. He came safely to
the stable, selected a powerful looking horse, threw on the saddle with
hasty hands. The bit was troublesome, the horse, with head lifted
high, fought against it with big square teeth clenched. But at last
the job was done and Hume rode out at the side door, his spurs in his
hand, not taking time to buckle them o