Part 17 (1/2)

”But you saw a difference?”

”Because I looked for it; I never would have otherwise. Of course what I looked at was a dead face in the coffin, a dead face that was seared and burned. But anyway, I was already convinced that he was not the man. I am not sure what I should have thought if I had met him alive upon the street.”

Lacy appeared amused, crossing the room, and expectorating into the open stove.

”You fellows make me laugh,” he said grimly. ”I am hardly idiot enough to be taken in by that sort of old wives' tale. However, if that is your story stick to it--but if you were to ever tell it in court, it would take a jury about five minutes to bring in their verdict. Still I see what you're up against--the death of this fellow means that you are afraid now to leave Cavendish alive. If he ever appears again in the flesh this New York murder will have to be accounted for. Is that it?”

”It leaves us in an awkward position.”

”All right. We understand each other then. Let's get to business.

You want me to help out in a sort of accident, I presume--a fall over a cliff, or the premature discharge of blasting powder; these things are quite common out here.”

Neither Enright nor Beaton answered, but Lacy was in no way embarra.s.sed by their silence. He knew now he had the whip-hand.

”And to prevent any stir at this end, before you fellows get hold of the stuff, you want me to call off my working gang and let Westcott alone. Come, now, speak up.”

”Yes,” acknowledged Enright. ”I don't care so much for Westcott, but I want things kept quiet. There's a newspaperwoman down at the hotel. I haven't been able to discover yet what she is doing out here, but she's one of the big writers on the New York _Star_. If she got an inkling of this affair----”

”Who is she? Not the girl you had that row over, Beaton?”

The gunman nodded.

”She's the one.”

”Do you suppose Jim Westcott knew her before? He brought her to the hotel and was mighty touchy about her.”

”h.e.l.l, no; she told me all about that--why she cut that fellow dead in the dining-room when he tried to speak to her the next day.”

Lacy whistled a few bars, his hands thrust deep into his trouser-pockets. Then, after a few minutes' cogitation, he resumed:

”All right then; we'll take it as it lies. The only question unsettled, Enright, is--what is all this worth to me?”

CHAPTER XV: MISS LA RUE PAYS A CALL

Some slight noise caused Westcott to straighten up, and turn partially around. He had barely time to fling up one arm in the warding off of a blow. The next instant was one of mad, desperate struggle, in which he realised only that he dare not relax his grip on the wrist of his unknown antagonist. It was a fierce, intense grapple, every muscle strained to the utmost, silent except for the stamping of feet, deadly in purpose.

The knife fell from the cramped fingers, but the fellow struggled like a demon, clutching at the miner's throat, but unable to confine his arms. Twice Westcott drove his clenched right into the shadowed face, smas.h.i.+ng it the last time so hard the man's grip relaxed, and he went staggering back. With a leap forward, the battle-fury on him, Westcott closed before the other could regain position. Again the clenched fist struck and the fellow went down in the darkness, whirling backward to the earth--and lay there, motionless.

An instant, panting, breathless, scarcely yet comprehending what had occurred, the victor stared at the huddled figure, his arm drawn back.

Then he became aware of excitement within, the sound of voices, the tramp of feet on the floor, the sudden opening of a door. A gleam of light shot out, revealing the figures of men. With one spring he was across the shapeless form on the ground, and had vanished into the darkness beyond.

Lacy was first to reach the unconscious body, stumbling over it in the black shadow, as he rushed forward, revolver in hand. He cursed, rising to his knees, and staring about in the silent darkness.

”There's a man lying here--dead likely. Bring a light. No, the fellow is alive. Dammit, it's Moore, and completely knocked out. Here you--what happened?”

The fellow groaned, opened his eyes, and looked about dazedly.

”Speak up, man!” and Lacy dragged him to a sitting position in no gentle fas.h.i.+on. ”Who hit you?”