familiarity about her.

Spear watched them go across the square toward the City Hotel, a long,
one-story adobe structure built by Leidesdorff as a store and home. On
the veranda stood the stocky figure of Proprietor Brown, smoking a long
pipe and conversing with half a dozen roughly dressed men who lounged
about the entrance. He looked up wonderingly as McTurpin approached. The
latter drew him to one side and appeared to make certain demands to
which Brown acquiesced by a curt nod, as if reluctant. Then the man and
woman passed around a corner of the building, the loungers peering
curiously after them.

A little later Spear observed the gambler issue forth alone and journey
rapidly toward the landing dock. He noted that a strange ship rode at
anchor. It must have come within the hour, he decided. Impelled by
curiosity, he descended in McTurpin's wake.

"What ship is that?" he asked of Leidesdorff.

"I haven't learned her name. She's from the north coast with a lot of
sick men. They've the scurvy and flux, I'm told. Dr. Jones has
gone aboard."

"I wonder what McTurpin's doing at the ship?" said Spear. "He'll get no
gambling victims out of ailing seamen."

"It's something else he wants, I fancy," said Bob Ridley, coming from
the dock toward them. "He's looking for a preacher--"

"Preacher?" cried the other men in unison.

"Yes," responded Ridley. "Aleck's going to be married, the sly dog. And
since the padres will have nothing to do with him, he's hard pressed.
Perhaps the wench is a stickler for proprieties," he laughed. "Someone
told him there was a sky pilot aboard the ship!"

* * * * *

Inez Windham removed her veil. She was in a small room, almost dark,
where McTurpin had left her after locking the door on the outside. It
was like a cell, with one small window high and narrow which let in a
straggling transmitted light, dimming mercifully the crude outlines of a
wooden stool, a bedstead of rough lumber, covered by soiled blankets, a
box-like commode upon which stood a pitcher and basin of heavy crockery.

The walls were very thin. From beyond them, in what was evidently a
public chamber, came snatches of talk interspersed with oaths, a click
of poker chips and coin, now and then a song. An odor of rank tobacco
seeped through the muslin-covered walls. With a sudden feeling of
nausea, of complete despair, the girl threw herself face down upon
the bed.

For a time Inez lay