d past him. Then he made his way within. Once inside he paused
again with that painful look of expectancy and fear in his eyes. Again
this passed, and he went on quickly to the far corner of the room,
and laid his hands upon the wooden lining of the wall. Then he
abruptly seemed to change his mind. He removed his hands, and withdrew
a largish, morocco pocketbook from an inner pocket.

It was a rather fine case, bound in embossed silver, and ornamented
with a silver monogram. For some moments he looked at it as though in
doubt. He seemed to be definitely making up his mind, and his whole
attitude suggested his desire for its safety.

While he was still gazing at it a startled look leaped into his eyes,
and his head turned as though at some suspicious sound. A moment later
he reached out and slid the wooden lining of the wall up, revealing
the cavity behind it, which still contained its odd assortment of
garments. Without hesitation he reached up to a dark jacket and thrust
the pocketbook into an inner pocket. Then, with a swift movement, he
replaced the paneling and turned about.

It was the work of a moment, and as he turned about his right hand was
gripping the butt of a revolver, ready and pointing at the door.

"Charlie!"

The revolver was slipped back into the man's pocket, and Charlie
Bryant's furious face was turned toward the window opening, which now
framed the features of his great blundering brother.

"You, Bill?" he cried angrily. "What in hell are you doing here?"

But Bill ignored the challenge, he ignored the tone of it. His big
eyes were full of excitement.

"Come out of there--quick!" he cried sharply.

Charlie's dark eyes had lost some of their anger in the inquiry now
replacing it.

"Why?" But he moved toward the doorway.

"Why? Because Fyles is behind me. I've seen him in the distance."

Charlie came around the corner of the building with the door firmly
closed behind him. Bill left the window and moved across to his horse,
which was standing beside that of his brother. Charlie followed him.

Neither spoke again until the horses were reached, and Bill had
unhitched his reins from the corral fence. Then he turned his great
blue eyes, so full of trouble, upon the small figure beside him, and
he answered the other's half-angry, half-curious challenge with a
question.

"What's this place?" he demanded. Then he added, "And what's that
cupboard in there?" He jerked his head in the direction