it might be supposed that she
would have awaited the issue without farther activity. But on the way
home she began to reflect that her cousin would not reach Santa Fe until
next morning, and there was always a chance that this would be too late.
As soon as she reached the ranch she called up the station where the
stage connected with the train. To the operator she dictated a message
to be wired to Richard Gordon. The body of it ran thus:

"Have heard that attack may be made upon your life. Please do not
go out alone or at night at all. Answer."

She gave urgent instructions that if necessary to reach Gordon her
telegram be sent to every hotel in the city and to his lawyer, Thomas M.
Fitt.

Now that she had done all she could the young woman tried to put the
matter out of her mind by busying herself with the affairs of the ranch.
She had a talk with a cattle buyer, after which she rode out to see the
engineer who had charge of the building of the irrigation system she had
installed. An answer would, she was sure, be awaiting her upon her
return home.

Her anticipation was well founded. One of the housemaids told her that
the operator at San Jacinto had twice tried to get her on the telephone.
The mistress of the ranch stepped at once to the receiver.

"Give me San Jacinto," she said to the operator.

As soon as she was on the wire with the operator he delivered the
message he had for her. It was from Santa Fe and carried the signature
of Stephen Davis:

"Gordon has been missing since last night. I fear the worst. For
God's sake, tell me what you know."

Valencia leaned against the telephone receiver and steadied herself. She
felt strangely faint. The wall opposite danced up and down and the floor
swayed like the deck of a vessel in a heavy sea. She set her teeth hard
to get a grip on herself. Presently the wave of light-headedness passed.

She moved across the room and sank down into a chair in front of her
desk. They had then murdered him after all. She and her people were
responsible for his death. There was nothing to be done now--nothing at
all.

Then, out of the silence, a voice seemed to call to her--the voice of
Richard Gordon, faint and low, but clear. She started to her feet and
listened, shaken to the soul by this strange summons from that world
which lay beyond the reach of her physical senses. What could it mean?
She had the body of a healthy young animal. Her nerves never played her
any