“Yes,” softly, “that must be true.”

“No; it may not be true; it may all be a lie, concocted for a purpose.  A clever woman might so manipulate circumstances as to convince him she held his fate in her hands.  We must find that out in this case.”

“But how, Sergeant Hamlin?  He will not tell me.”

“Perhaps she will tell me if I can reach her alone,” he said grimly, “or else that husband of hers—­Dupont.  He ’ll know the whole story.  It would give me pleasure to choke it out of him—­real pleasure.  Then there ’s Connors, just the sort of sneaking rat if he can be caught with the goods; only it is not likely he knows much.  I shall have to think it all out, Miss Molly,” he smiled at her confidently.  “You see, I am a bit slow figuring puzzles, but I generally get them in time.  You ’ve told me all you know?”

“Everything.  It almost seems silly when I try to explain what I feel to another.”

“Not to me.  I knew enough before to understand.  But, perhaps, you had better go—­hush, some one is entering the parlor.”

She got to her feet in spite of his restraining hand, startled and unnerved.

“Oh, I must not be seen here.  Is there no other way?”

“No; be still for a moment; step back there in the shadow, and let me go in alone.”

He stepped forward, his grasp already on the curtain, when a woman’s voice spoke within: 

“Yes, that was what I meant; he does not know you—­yet.  But you must keep away.”

CHAPTER XXI

MOLLY DISAPPEARS

The speaker was Mrs. Dupont, but Hamlin’s one thought was to prevent any discovery of Miss McDonald.  Without an instant’s hesitation he drew aside the curtain, and stepped into the room.

“Pardon me,” he said quietly, as the two started back at his rather abrupt entrance, “but I did not care to overhear your conversation.  No doubt it was intended to be private.”

[Illustration:  The two started back at his rather abrupt entrance.]

The woman stepped somewhat in advance of her companion, as though to shield him from observation, instantly mastering her surprise.

“Nothing at all serious, Mr. Sergeant Hamlin,” she retorted scornfully.  “Don’t be melodramatic, please; it gets on the nerves.  If you must know, I was merely giving our ranch foreman a few final instructions, as he leaves to-morrow.  Have you objections?”

“Assuredly not—­your ranch foreman, you say?  Met him before, I think.  You are the fellow I ordered out of this room, are n’t you?”

The man growled something unintelligible, but Mrs. Dupont prevented any direct reply.

“That’s all right, John,” she broke in impatiently.  “You understand what I want now, and need not remain any longer.  I have a word to say myself to this man.”

She waited an instant while he left the room; then her eyes defiantly met Hamlin’s.