“But the woman might not have been Miss Donovan; isn’t there another young lady here from the East?”

Sadie tossed her head, but with her eyes cautiously fixed on the office door.

“Humph; you mean the peroxid blonde!  She ain’t no lady.  Well, it wa’n’t her, that’s a cinch; she was down yere to breakfast, a laughin’ an’ gigglin’ with them two men ’bout an hour ago.  They seemed ter feel mighty good over something but I couldn’t quite make out just what the joke was.  Say, did yer ever hear tell of a Mexican named Mendez?”

“Well, rather; he’s a cattle thief, or worse.  Arizona has a big reward out for him, dead or alive.”

“That’s the gink, I bet yer; has he got a hang-out anywhar ’round this country?”

“Not so far as I know; in fact, I haven’t heard the fellow’s name mentioned for six months, or more.  What makes you suspect this?”

Sadie leaned even closer, her voice trembling with excitement, evidently convinced that her information was of the utmost importance.

“For God’s sake, Mr. Westcott,” she whispered, “don’t never tell anybody I told yer, but she was awful good ter me, an’ that pasty-faced blonde makes me sick just ter look at her.  You know the feller they call Enright, I reckon he’s a lawyer.”

Westcott nodded.

“Well, he was doin’ most of the talkin’, an’ I was foolin’ round the sideboard yonder, pretendin’ ter clean it up.  Nobody thought I was in ear distance, but I got hold ov a word now an’ then.  He kept tellin’ ’em, ’specially the blonde, ’bout this Mexican, who’s a friend of Bill Lacy, an’ I judge has a place whar he hangs out with his gang somewhar in the big desert.”

“Was anything said about Miss Donovan?”

“Not by name; they was too smart for that; but that was the direction Matt Moore drove off last night—­there’s Enright comin’ down-stairs now; won’t yer hav’ some more cakes, sir?”

Westcott pushed back his chair and rose to his feet.  He had extracted all the information the girl possessed, and had no wish to expose her to suspicion.  There was no longer a doubt in his mind as to the fate of Miss Donovan.  She had been forcibly abducted by this gang of thieves, and put where her knowledge could do them no harm.  But where?  The clue had been given him, but before it could be of any value he must learn more of this Mexican, Mendez.  The name itself was familiar enough, for it was one often spoken along the border in connection with crime, but beyond this meant nothing to him.  The fellow had always appeared a rather mythical character, but now became suddenly real.  The marshal might know; if not, then he must choke the truth out of Lacy.  Determined to make the effort, he muttered a swift word of thanks to Sadie and left the room.

Enright was not in the office, but had evidently merely passed through and gone out.  Timmons was sound asleep in a chair by the window, oblivious to any ordinary noise.  From the open doorway Westcott took careful survey Of the street, adjusting his belt so that the butt of his revolver was more convenient to the hand.  He had no conception that his coming interview with Lacy was to be altogether a pleasant one, and realised fully the danger confronting him.