Phoenix tribune., 1920-09-11

to deceive. mol He would not be-
lieve this. All his old lurking faith
in her came back in a flash of revela-
ton. He would continue to believe in
her trust her, feel that some worthy
purpose had influenced her strange
action. And, above all, he would be
at the lower bridge on the hour set.
He was back at the desk when Tim
mons returned.
"What do / owe you, old manT
He paid the bill jokingly and in
the best of humor, careful to tell the
proprietor that he was leaving for
his mine and might not return for sew
eral days. He possessed confidence
that Timmons would make no secret
of this in Haskell after his departure.
He was glad to notice that BeatOn
observed him as he passed the Good
Luck saloon and went tramping down
the dusty road.
The only carriage belonging to the
town livery passed soon after his ar
rival, evidently bound for the station,
and from his covert he recognized
Beaton lolling carelessly in the back
seat. This must mean that the man
expected arrivals on the afternoon
train, important arrivals whom he de-
sired to honor. There was no sign,
however, of Miss Donovan; the time
was up, yet with no evidence of her
approach.
Westcott waited patiently, arguing
to himself that her delay might be
caused by her wish to get Beaton well
out of the way before she ventured to
leave the hotel. At last he strobe
down the path to the bridge, and saw
her leaning over the rail, staring at
the ripples below.
"Why," he exclaimed in surprise,
''how long have you been here?"
Several minutes" and she turned
to face him. 81 waited until the car
riage passed before coming onto the
bridge. 1 took the foot path from the
hotel"
"You sent for me; there is some ex-
PLANTATION, no doubtp
The lady smiled, lifting her eyes to
his face.
"There is" she answered. "a per-
fectly satisfactory one, l believe; but
this place is too prominent, as 1 have
rather long story to tell"
"There is a rock seat below, just be-
yond the clump of willows, quite out
of sight from the road" he suggested.
Perhaps you would go with me
there?"
''What trail is that?"
'It leads to mines up the canyon,
my own included, but is not greatly
travelled; the main trail is farther
east"
She walked to the edge of the bridge
and permitted him to assist her down
the bank. There was something of
reserve about her manner, which pre-
vented Westcott from feeling alto
gether at ease. Neither broke the ST.
lence between them until they reached
the flat boulder and had found seats
in the shelter of overhanging trees.
! She sat a moment, then she turned
toward him questioningly.
II was very rude" she said, ''but
you will forgive me when 1 explain
the cause. had to act as 1 did or
else lose my hold entirely on that
man-yOu understand"
II do not need to understand" he
answered CALAMITY. "It is enough that
you say So"
mo, it is not enough. value your
friendship, Mr.. Westcott, and 1 need
your advice"
"You may feel confidence in me-"
"Oh, do; indeed, you cannot real
ize how thoroughly I trust you," and
impulsively she touched his hand with
her own. "That is why l wrote you
to meet me here-so I could tell you
the whole story"
He waited, his eyes on her face.
81 received my letter this morning
the letter told you l expected, con-
tanning my instructions. They-they
relate to this man Ned Beaton and the
woman he expects on this train"
"YOur instructions?" he echoed
doubtfully. "You mean you have been
sent after these people on some crimi-
nal matter? You are a detectiveT
There must have been a tone Of
distrust in his voice, for she turned
and faced him defiantly.
No; not that. Listen: 1 am a
newspaper woman, a special writer
on the New York Star" She paused,
her cheeks flushing with nervousness.
'It-it was very strange that 1 met
you first of all--for it seems that the
case is of personal interest to you"
''To mel Why, that is hardly likely,
if it originated in New York"
"It did'-she drew in a sharp
breath-"for it originated in the MUIR
der of Frederick Cayendish."
"The murder of Cavendish! He has
been killed?"
"YeS; at least that is what every
| one believes, except possibly one man