At the store the three friends made their way through the crowd of curious people who had gathered on the unexpected return of the chief actors in last night’s drama; they made their way quickly round to the back where the private door was.

Lablache was within, and with him Horrocks.  The heavy voice of the money-lender answered “Poker” John’s summons.

“Come in.”

He was surprised when the door opened, and he saw who his visitors were.  John and the doctor he was prepared for, but “Lord” Bill’s coming was a different matter.  For an instant he seriously meditated an angry objection.  Then he altered his mind, a thing which was rare with him.  After all the man’s presence could do no harm, and he felt that to object to him, would be to quarrel with the rancher.  On second thoughts he would tolerate what he considered the intrusion.

Lablache was ensconced in his basket chair, and Horrocks was at the great man’s desk.  Neither moved as their visitors entered.  The troubles of the previous night were plainly written on both men’s faces.  There was a haggard look in their eyes, and a generally dishevelled appearance about their dress.  Lablache in particular looked unwashed and untidy.  Horrocks looked less troubled, and there was a strong air of determination about his face.

“Poker” John showed no niceness in broaching the subject of his visit.  His libations had roused him to the proper pitch for plain speaking.

“Well, what happened to you last night, Lablache?  I guess you’re looking about as blue as they make ’em.  Say, I thought sure Retief was going to do for you when I heard about it.”

“Ah.  Who told you about—­about me?”

“Your clerk.”

“Rodgers?”

“No, Thompson.”

“Ah!  Have you seen Rodgers at all?”

“No.”  John turned to the other two.  “Have you?”

Neither of the men had seen the clerk, and old John turned again to Lablache.

“Why, what’s happened to Rodgers?”

“Oh, nothing.  I haven’t seen him since I have been back—­that’s all.”

“Well, now tell us all about last night,” went on the rancher.  “This matter is going to be cleared up.  I have been thinking of a vigilance committee.  We can’t do better.”

Lablache shook his great head.  To the doctor and “Lord” Bill there seemed to be an utter hopelessness conveyed in the motion.

“I have nothing to tell.  Neither has Horrocks.  What happened last night concerns ourselves alone.  You may possibly hear more later on, but the telling by us now will do no good, and probably a lot of harm.  As for your vigilance committee, form it if you like, but I doubt that you will do any good with it.”

This refusal riled the old rancher.  He was just in that condition when it would take little to make him quarrel.  He was about to rap out an angry retort when a knock came at the partition door.  It was Thompson.  He had come to say that the troopers had returned, and wanted to see the sergeant.  Also to say that Rodgers was with them.  Horrocks immediately went out to see them, and, before John could say a word, Lablache turned on him.