“Meaning that I forged it?” smiled Warden.

“Meanin’ what you damned please!” snapped Moreton.  “I ain’t actin’ in this case till that woman swears she seen what she claims to have seen.”

“She’ll swear to it,” said Warden, confidently.  “Meantime, I’d advise you to have a talk with Keller.  Ask him who brought Della Wharton to the hotel, and what time she got there.”  Warden smiled.  “I’ll see you later, Sheriff.”

Warden went to his office; and, after a time, Moreton strode slowly to the Willets Hotel, where for a long time he talked with Keller.

When Moreton emerged from the hotel after the talk with Keller his brows were furrowed and his lips were in a pout.  He spent most of the day sitting in his office, glaring moodily out into the street; and when he heard the east-bound train rumble in late in the afternoon he drew a deep breath and got up, muttering lowly: 

“It looks mighty like it—­for a fact.  But Lawler—­Oh, hell!”

Within fifteen minutes after the arrival of the east-bound train, Moreton was sitting at the desk in his office, studying Miss Wharton’s face.

Della had been met at the train by Warden—­who now stood just inside the door of the office, watching her, admiring her self-possession.

For Della was calm and deliberate.  There was, to be sure, a paleness around her mouth that was not there at other times; and her lips were set rather tightly.  Moreton saw those indications of mental stress—­but they were no more pronounced than they should be in any woman who had come to swear she had witnessed murder.

And Della swore to the statement she had made.  She answered Moreton’s questions in a low voice, telling him she regretted having to answer them—­begging him to keep the matter as secret as possible, for she abhorred publicity.

After Moreton had administered the oath, Della and Warden went out; and for many minutes Moreton sat at his desk with his chin on his chest, staring at the desk top.

He finally got up, buckled on his cartridge belt and pistol, went out, mounted his horse and rode southward.

* * * * *

Inside the sheriff’s office, Warden took leave of Della Wharton, pressing her hand warmly, telling her that she had been “great.”  Della smiled shallowly, not responding to Warden’s hand pressure.  Her face had grown white and there was a glow in her eyes that she did not permit Warden to see.

Warden left her, telling her she would find her horse in front of his office—­where Singleton had brought it.  Warden’s expressions of regret that he could not accompany her to the Two Diamond were received in silence.  Business would keep him in town for a day or so, he said.

Warden went toward the Wolf, and Della walked down the street to her horse, mounted and rode through mounds of back-yard refuse to the rear of the Willets Hotel.  She got a man out to stable her horse, and a few minutes later she was in the room she had occupied on the night Lawler brought her to town from the line cabin.  She was still pale, but now there was a smile on her lips.