moonlight revealed sleeping figures. On a waste of
sand-dunes McTurpin paused.

"Now tell me what ye want," he snarled, "and be damned quick about it.
I've small time to waste with meddlers."

"On this occasion," Stanley said, "you'll take the time to note the
following facts, Mr. McTurpin, Mr. Pillsworth--or whatever your true
name may be--I've had a talk with Dandy Carter. He recognized you and
Gasket when Burthen was killed, in spite of your beard. So did Rosa, of
course, though she skipped the next morning. The Burthen girl is at my
house." He paused an instant, thinking that he heard a movement in a
bush nearby. "Well, that's all," he finished, "except this: If I find
you here tomorrow, Alec McTurpin, murderer, card-sharp and abductor,
I'll shoot you down like a dog."

And then, with a splendid piece of bravery, he turned his back on the
gambler, walking away with never a backward glance. He did not go
directly home, but walked for an indeterminate interval till his spirit
was more calm.

The house was dark. Inez had obeyed him by leaving no trace of light.
Doubtless by now they had retired. Suddenly he started, peered more
closely at the door he was about to enter.

It was slightly ajar. On the threshold, as he threw it open, Adrian
found a lace-edged handkerchief. His wife's.

Filled with quick foreboding, he called her name. His voice sounded
hollow, strange, as if an empty house. Tremblingly he struck a light and
searched the inner room. The bed had not been slept in. There was no one
to be seen.

CHAPTER XXII

SHOTS IN THE DARK

Frantically Adrian ran out into the darkness, crying his wife's name.
His thought went, with swift apprehension, over the events of recent
hours. The villainous face of Ned Gasket passed before his memory
mockingly; the meaning look McTurpin gave his henchman at the gaming
table. Finally, with double force, that movement in the bushes as he
told the gambler of his former captive's whereabouts. By what absurd
imprudence had he laid himself thus open to the scoundrel's swift
attack? What farther whimsy of an unkind Fate had prompted his
long walk?

Sudden fury flamed in Stanley's heart; it steadied him. The twitching
fingers on the pistol in his pocket relaxed into a calm and settled
tension. With long strides he made his way toward Brown's hotel.

There was death in his eyes; men who caught their gleam beneath a
lamplight, hastily avoided him. That Inez--at this time-