come!" she thought, with a throb of relief which shamed her. But
the step was not like Knight's. It was hurried and nervous; and as she
told herself this there sounded a loud knock at the door.

There was an electric bell, which Knight had fitted up with his own
hands, but it was not visible at night. No one except herself could hear
this knocking, for the servants' quarters were at the far end of the
bungalow. A little frightened, recalling stories of cattle thieves and
things they had done, Annesley went into the hall.

"Who is there?" she cried, her face near the closed door, which locked
itself in shutting. If a man's voice--the voice of a stranger--should
reply in "Mex," or with a foreign accent, the girl did not intend to let
him in. A man's voice did reply, but neither in "Mex" nor with a foreign
accent. It said: "My name is Paul Van Vreck. Open quickly, please. I may
be followed."

Annesley's heart jumped; but without hesitation she pulled back the
latch, and as she opened the door a rush of sand-laden wind wrenched it
from her hand. She staggered away as the door swung free, and there was
just time to see a tall, thin figure slip in like a shadow before the
light of the hanging-lamp blew out. The girl and the newcomer were in the
dark save for a yellow ray that filtered into the hall from her room, but
she saw him stoop to place a bag or bundle on the floor, and then,
pulling the door to against the wind, slammed it shut with a click.

Having done this, the tall shadow bent to pick up what it had laid down.

"Thank you, Mrs. Donaldson, for letting me in," said the most charming
voice Annesley had ever heard--more charming even than Knight's.
"Evidently you've heard your husband mention me, or you might have kept
me out there parleying, if you're alone, for these are stirring times."

"Yes, I--I've heard you mentioned by--many people," the girl answered,
stammering like a nervous child. "Won't you come in--into the living
room? Not the room with the open door. That's mine. It's another, farther
along the hall. I'm sorry my husband's out."

As she talked she wondered at herself. She knew Van Vreck for a super
thief. He did not steal with his own hands, but he commanded other hands
to steal, and that was even worse. Or she had thought it worse in her
husband's case, and for more than a year she had punished him for his
sins. Yet here she was almost welcoming this man.

She did not understand why she felt--e