gue the question of
the man's attitude, and went down to the station, where he found a
telegram awaiting him. It was from Judge Graney:

Coming home. Case sent back to Circuit Court for hearing. Depend on
you to get evidence.

Trevison crumpled the paper and shoved it savagely into a pocket. He stood
for a long time on the station platform, in the dark, glowering at the
lights of the town, then started abruptly and made his way into the
gambling room of the _Plaza_, where he somberly watched the players. The
rattle of chips, the whir of the wheel, the monotonous drone of the faro
dealer, the hum of voices, some eager, some tense, others exultant or
grumbling, the incessant jostling, irritated him. He went out the front
door, stepped down into the street, and walked eastward. Passing an open
space between two buildings he became aware of the figure of a woman, and
he wheeled as she stepped forward and grasped his arm. He recognized her
and tried to pass on, but she clung to him.

"Trev!" she said, appealingly; "I want to talk with you. It's very
important--really. Just a minute, Trev. Won't you talk _that_ long! Come
to my room--where--"

"Talk fast," he admonished, holding her off,"--and talk here."

She struggled with him, trying to come closer, twisting so that her body
struck his, and the contact brought a grim laugh out of him. He seized her
by the shoulders and held her at arm's length. "Talk from there--it's
safer. Now, if you've anything important--"

"O Trev--please--" She laughed, almost sobbing, but forced the tears back
when she saw derision blazing in his eyes.

"I told you it was all over!" He pushed her away and started off, but he
had taken only two steps when she was at his side again.

"I saw you from my window, Trev. I--I knew it was you--I couldn't mistake
you, anywhere. I followed you--saw you go into the _Plaza_. I came to warn
you. Corrigan has planned to goad you into doing some rash thing so that
he will have an excuse to jail or kill you!"

"Where did you hear that?"

"I--I just heard it. I was in the bank today, and I overheard him talking
to a man--some officer, I think. Be careful, Trev--very careful, won't
you?"

"Careful as I can," he laughed, lowly. "Thank you." He started on again,
and she grasped his arm. "Trev," she pleaded.

"What's the use, Hester?" he said; "it can't be."

"Well, God bless you, anyway, dear," she said chokingly.

He passed on, leaving her in the