for the Judge's cot
was empty, and the Judge nowhere to be seen.

Corrigan stalked through the building, cursing. He examined the cot, and
discovered that it had been slept in. The Judge must have risen early.
Obviously, there was nothing to do but to wait. Corrigan did that,
impatiently. For a long time he sat in the chair at his desk, watching
Braman, studying him, scowling, rage in his heart. "If he's up to any
dirty work, I'll choke him until his tongue hangs out a yard!" was a
mental threat that he repeated many times. "But he's just mush-headed over
the woman, I guess--he's that kind of a fool!"

At ten o'clock Corrigan jumped on his horse and rode out to the butte
where the laborers were working, clearing away the debris from the
explosion. No one there had seen Judge Lindman. Corrigan rode back to
town, fuming with rage. Finding some of the deputies he sent them out to
search for the Judge. One by one they came in and reported their failure.
At six-thirty, after the arrival of the evening train from Dry Bottom,
Corrigan was sitting at his desk, his face black with wrath, reading for
the third or fourth time a letter that he had spread out on the desk
before him:

"MR. JEFFERSON CORRIGAN:

"I feel it is necessary for me to take a short rest. Recent
excitement in Manti has left me very nervous and unstrung. I shall be
away from Manti for about two weeks, I think. During my absence any
pending litigation must be postponed, of course."

The letter was signed by Judge Lindman, and postmarked "Dry Bottom."

Corrigan got up after a while and stuffed the letter into a pocket. He
went out, and when he returned, Braman had gone out also--to supper,
Corrigan surmised. When the banker came in an hour later, Corrigan was
still seated at his desk. The banker smiled at him, and Corrigan motioned
to him.

Corrigan's voice was silky. "Where were you last night, Braman?"

The banker's face whitened; his thoughts became confused, but instantly
cleared when he observed from the expression of the big man's face that
the question was, apparently, a casual one. But he drew his breath
tremulously. One could never be sure of Corrigan.

"I spent the night here--in the back room."

"Then you didn't see the Judge last night--or hear him?"

"No."

Corrigan drew the Judge's letter from the pocket and passed it over to
Braman, watching his face steadily as he read. He saw a quick stain appear
in the banker's cheeks, a