he stranger had
visited every ranch in the Rocky Mountain belt.

After dinner, strolling beside his host toward his horse, Pierre
spoke, and before Yarnall had heard a word he knew that the long delay
had been caused by suppressed emotion. Pierre, when he did ask his
question, was white to the lips.

"I've taken a lot of your time," he said slowly. "I came to ask you
about someone. I heard that you had a woman on your ranch, a woman who
came in and didn't give you any history. I want to see her if I may."
He was actually fighting an unevenness of breath, and Yarnall,
unemotional as he was, was gripped with sympathetic suspense. "I
want," stammered the young man, "to know her name."

Yarnall swore. "Her name, as she gave it," said he, "is Jane. But, my
boy, you can't see her. She left this morning."

Pierre raised a white, tense face.

"Left?" He turned as if he would run after her.

"Yes, sir. These people I've had here took her away with them. That
is, they've been urging her to go, but she'd refused. Then, suddenly,
this morning, just as they were putting the trunks in, up came Jane,
white as chalk, asking them to take her with them, said she must go.
Well, sir, they rigged her up with some traveling clothes and drove
away with her. That was six hours ago. By now they're in the train,
bound for New York."

Yarnall's guest looked at him without speaking, and Yarnall nervously
went on, "She's been with us about six months, Landis, and I don't
know anything about her. She was tall, gray eyes, black hair, slow
speaking, and with the kind of voice you'd be apt to notice ... yes, I
see she's the girl you've been looking for. I can give you the New
York people's address, but first, for Jane's sake,--I'm a pretty good
friend of hers, I think a lot of Jane,--I'll have to know what you
want with her--what she is to you."

Pierre's pupils widened till they all but swallowed the smoke-colored
iris.

"She is my wife," he said.

Again Yarnall swore. But he lit a cigarette and took his time about
answering. "Well, sir," he said, "you must excuse me, but--it was
because she saw you, I take it, that Jane cut off this morning. That's
clear. Now, I don't know what would make a girl run off from her
husband. She might have any number of reasons, bad and good, but it
seems to me that it would be a pretty strong one that would make a
girl run off, with a look such as she wore, from a man like you. Did
you treat her well, Land