ant to invest if the proposition's good."

This was enough for Crowheart, and Andy P. Symes, who was attracted to
Capital by an instinct as sure as a law of Nature, flew to him and clung
like a bit of steel to a magnet.

"Murder case," explained Symes for conversational purposes as he and the
banker stood at the front window in the office of the Terriberry House
and watched a mad race between Lutz, the undertaker, and a plume which
had blown off the hearse.

"Yes?"

"Pretty raw piece of work," continued Symes, while the banker searched
in his case for a cigar. "Old sheepman shot dead in his tracks the same
day he was married to a girl young enough to be his granddaughter.
Married him for his money and there's no doubt in anybody's mind but
that she killed him for the same purpose. She may get away with it,
though, for she'll be able to put up a fight with old Dubois's coin."

"Whose?" The banker's hand stopped on its way to scratch a match on the
window-sill.

"French Canadian; signed himself 'Edouard Dubois.' Name familiar?"

The banker's face was a curious study as his mind went galloping back
through the years.

"You say he was murdered--shot?"

"Dead as a door nail." Symes was pleased to have found a topic
interesting to the stranger. "Each shot made a bull's-eye, one through
the forehead and the other in his heart. She's a good shot, this girl,
her one accomplishment."

"Does she admit it?"

Symes laughed.

"Oh, no; she tells some tale about having gone for water and hearing two
shots--just about the sort of a yarn she _would_ tell, but there was
blood on her clothing and Dubois's own gun with two empty chambers was
found where she had thrown it. They had a row probably and she beat him
to his gun or else she waited and got the drop on him."

"But have they looked for strange footprints or any clues to corroborate
her story?" persisted the banker.

Symes returned indifferently--

"I suppose so, but it's an open and shut case and the girl is
practically a prisoner here in the hotel. The sheriff is hanging back
about her arrest--western chivalry, you know, but it can't stand in the
way of justice, and the people are pretty sore. Hurts a town, a thing
like this," continued Symes feelingly, "gets in all the eastern papers,
and when we appear in print we wish it to be in connection with
something creditable."

The banker agreed absent-mindedly, and asked--

"Do you know her--this Mrs. Dubois?"