Their eyes met, fastened for an instant, and by common consent
looked away.
As it chanced they were close to the window, their shadows
reflected on the blind. A man, slipping past in the street on
horseback, stopped at sight of that lighted window, with the
moving shadows, in an uncontrollable white fury. He slid from the
saddle, threw the reins over the horse's head to the ground, and
slipped his revolver from its holster and back to make sure that
he could draw it easily. Then he passed springily across the road
to the hotel and up the stairs. He trod lightly, stealthily, and
by his very wariness defeated his purpose of eluding observation.
For a pair of keen eyes from the hotel office glimpsed the figure
stealing past so noiselessly, and promptly followed up the
stairway.
"Hope I don't intrude at this happy family gathering."
Helen, who had been pouring a glass of cordial for the spent and
wounded sheepman, put the glass down on the table and turned at
sound of the silken, sinister voice. After one glance at the
vindictive face, from the cold eyes of which hate seemed to
smolder, she took an instinctive step toward her lover. The cold
wave that drenched her heart accompanied an assurance that the
man in the doorway meant trouble.
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