“Antrim didn’t lose any time!” commented Warden, exultantly.  “And Della can tell the truth to the sheriff whenever she gets ready!”

The other watcher was Della Wharton.  She had seen the sheriff leave town, to ride southward, and she had divined what his errand meant.  And she had sat in a chair near a window for many hours, peering into the darkness for Moreton’s return with his prisoner.  And when she saw them coming she smiled as she had smiled when she had entered the room after taking leave of Warden.

Della knew Warden better than Warden knew himself; and on the night when he had asked her to sign the statement charging Lawler with murder, she was convinced that Warden intended to use the statement.  He had told her that he merely intended to hold it as a threat over Lawler’s head, to dissuade him from succeeding politically; and she had permitted Warden to think that she believed him.  And when, upon her arrival from the capital, he had told her that it was part of his strategy to secretly present the statement to the sheriff—­and that she must appear personally before that official—­she had consented, knowing that Warden was insincere.

Della had really felt vindictive toward Lawler on that last day in the line cabin.  She had yielded to the resentment that had assailed her over the conviction that she had made no impression upon the man.  And she had lied when she had told Warden that she had been merely infatuated with Lawler.  She discovered that after she reached the hotel following her sojourn in the cabin with him.  She wanted him more than she had ever wanted anything in the world.  And she was determined to have him.  She meant to win him even if she had to bring confusion upon Warden.  And so she smiled as she watched Moreton open the jail doors to Lawler—­a smile in which there was much triumph.

CHAPTER XXXI

“JAIL’S EMPTY, KANE!”

The jail was small—­merely one room with barred windows and an iron door, opening upon the street.  The iron door was supplemented with a wooden one, which halted the glances of the curious.  The windows were high, thus insuring further privacy; the hard adobe floor was clean, and the bunk in which Lawler lay when the dawn came was as comfortable as might have been expected.

Moreton had come in just before daylight, solicitous, concerned, eager to lessen the discomforts of his prisoner.  Back of the apology in his voice was a note of rage: 

“It goes ag’in’ the grain to keep you here, Lawler,” he said when he closed the door after entering; “but I’m goin’ to bring this case to a showdown today, an’ don’t you forget it!”

But the sheriff did not bring the case up that day.  A little later he provided Lawler with breakfast, and toward noon he opened the door to ask Lawler how he was getting along.  On the occasion of this visit he told Lawler he was trying to locate Warden, but so far hadn’t been successful.