Foster thrilled and his weariness and dejection vanished.  Alice would have got Lawrence’s telegram soon after she wrote and she had proof of his honesty now.  Still, he had only kept half his promise, and although he had undertaken a task that needed abilities he doubted if he possessed, he meant to keep the other half.  He was hemmed in by difficulties and might make mistakes, but somehow he was going to make good.

For a time he sat in a corner, recalling what Alice had said in England and how she had looked.  He pictured her standing in the dark-paneled library at the Garth, with eyes that sparkled as she spoke in his defense, sitting with a smile in the half-light by the big hearth in the hall, and waiting for him in the orchard.  She moved through all the scenes with the same calm grace; even in her anger—­and he had seen her angry—­there was a proud reserve.  But Alice stood above all other women; there was nobody like her.

Then he got up with a resolute movement.  Dreams and memories would not help, and he must get to work.  To begin with, he would try to find out something about Telford, and went to the office, where the clerk was unoccupied.  As a rule, nobody knows more about everybody else’s business than the clerk of a Western hotel.

“Is there much doing in real estate just now?” he asked.

“There will be soon.  The mines are paying well and the bosses are planning new developments.  Then there’s a big scheme for opening up the ranching land in the bench country.  That means a bigger city.  Are you looking for building lots?”

“My line’s dressed lumber, but when you get a building boom you want material.  I suppose Mr. Telford does a good trade?”

“Talks as if he was going to, but he hasn’t begun yet,” the clerk replied with a smile that hinted that he had expected the inquiry.

“Then he hasn’t been here long?”

“Only came into town a week since,” said the clerk, rather dryly.  “When things look like humming these fellows generally do come along.  But you want to go slow when you deal with a real-estate man, unless you know all about him.”

“Yes,” said Foster thoughtfully, “as a rule, that’s true.  Thank you, anyhow.”

He went back to his seat and lighted his pipe again.  He had learned that Telford was a stranger and had apparently thought it advisable to account for his visiting the town.  Foster saw that he ought to have guessed the fellow was not a resident when he asked for his mail, because had he been in business in the city he would have had his private box at the post office.  Moreover he imagined that the clerk knew he really wanted to find out something about Telford, and thought him clumsy, but this did not matter.  He had been told he had an ingenuous look, which was rather an advantage, since it suited the part he meant to play.  He did not want people to think him clever, but they must not suspect that he was pretending to be dull.  Remembering his mistakes, he smiled as he admitted that there was not much danger of this.  By and by Telford came in and sat down in the next chair.