ble
that they must be certified with the best of evidence, and such evidence
as I wanted could only be forthcoming from Bennett, or someone else in
Denver who knew Farnham equally well.

What I must do, I thought, would be to keep on the man's track, and
never for an hour lose sight of him. I must do this without arousing any
suspicion on his part as to my motives until the last moment, when I
should be prepared to accuse him.

This conclusion naturally reminded me that at the very moment it was
reached I had virtually lost sight of my quarry, and that already I
might have missed my chance. Accordingly, I hurried back to the Santa
Anna Hotel, and though it was then too late to wire Bennett, I
determined to do so early the next morning. I would request him to come
on to San Francisco at once on a matter of extreme importance, and--his
mind being already disturbed concerning his employer--he would lose no
time in obeying. In Bennett, if I could fairly corner the bogus Farnham,
I should have the most valuable witness in the world.

My first question was as to whether Mr. Farnham were in the hotel. He
had not yet returned from a call which he had gone to make after dinner,
and I sat down, therefore, in the corridor inside the front doors,
through which he would have to pass on entering.

I pretended to be absorbed in a local paper, but in reality my thoughts
were a maelstrom. Suppose he had already escaped me!

At half-past eleven, however, he came in. I did not seem to lift my eyes
from the pages before them. He would have to go directly by me on his
way upstairs; time enough to appear to observe him then.

"Cablegram for you, Mr. Farnham," said the clerk of the hotel.

"Ah!" The exclamation was one of surprise. He had not, then, been
expecting the message.

I could not resist looking up after all to watch him in the act of
reading it, and as I did so my eyes caught a gleam from his, under the
green shade, as they turned to my face with an expression that was like
a hunted animal's. In the instant I was as positive as though he had
told me in so many words that the cablegram he had received was from
Carson Wildred, and intimately concerned me. Probably it said, "If a man
named Noel Stanton turns up, he is an enemy--beware of him."

I regretted immediately that I had given him my real name when we met at
dinner, for, warned now by Wildred, he would be ever on his guard. He
was seized with a creditable fit of cough