Part 24 (2/2)

Then, convinced that every precaution had been taken, Westcott turned his horse's head toward Haskell. As he rode slowly up the street in the bright sunlight his mind reverted to Stella Donovan. The stern adventures of the night had temporarily driven the girl from his thoughts, but now the memory returned, and her bright, womanly face arose before him, full of allurement. He seemed to look once more into the wonderful depths of her eyes and to feel the fascination of her smile. Eager for the greeting, which he felt a.s.sured awaited him, he strode through the open door into the office. The room was vacant, but as he crossed the floor toward the desk the proprietor entered through the opening leading into the barroom beyond. Timmons had quite evidently been drinking more than usual--the effect being largely disclosed by loquacity of speech.

”h.e.l.lo, Jim!” he cried at sight of the other. ”Thought you'd be back, but, d.a.m.n it, yer too late--she's--she's gone; almighty pretty girl, too. I told the boys it was a blame shame fer her ter run off thataway.”

”Who has run off?” And Westcott's hand crushed down on the man's shoulder with a force that half-sobered him. ”What are you talking about?”

”Me! Let up, will yer? Yer was here hopin' ter see that New York girl, wasn't yer?”

”Miss Donovan? Yes.”

”I'd forgot her name. Well, she ain't yere--she's left.”

”Left--gone from town?”

”Sure; skipped out sudden in the night; took the late train East, I reckon. Never sed no word to n.o.body--just naturally packed up her duds an' hiked.”

Westcott drew a deep breath.

”Surely you do not mean she left without any explanation? She must have paid her bill.”

”Oh, she was square enough--sure. She left money an' a note pinned to her pillow; sed she'd just got a message callin' her back home--want ter see whut she wrote?”

”You bet I do, Timmons! Have you got the note here?”

Timmons waddled around behind the desk and ran his hand into a drawer.

Evidently he considered the matter a huge joke, but Westcott s.n.a.t.c.hed the paper from his fingers impatiently and eagerly read the few hastily pencilled lines:

Have received a message calling me East at once. Shall take the night train, and enclose sufficient money to pay for my entertainment.

S. D.

He stared at the words, a deep crease between his eyes. It was a woman's handwriting, and at first glance there was nothing impossible in such an action on her part. Yet it was strange, if she had departed so suddenly, without leaving any message for him. After that meeting at the bridge, and the understanding between them, it didn't seem to Westcott at all probable that she would thus desert without some plausible explanation. His eyes narrowed with aroused suspicion as he looked up from the slip of paper and confronted the amused Timmons across the desk.

”I'll keep this,” he said soberly, folding it and thrusting it into his pocket.

”All right”--and Timmons smiled blandly--”I got the money.”

”And that was all, was it--just this note and the cash? There was nothing addressed to me?”

The hotel-keeper shook his head.

”When did you see her last?”

”'Bout nine o'clock, I reckon; she come down inter the dinin'-room fer a drink o' water.”

”She said nothing then about going away?”

”She didn't speak to n.o.body--just got a swig an' went up-stairs agin.”

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