When she had pled with him for himself a moment before Cherry Malotte was genuine and girlish but now as he spoke thus of the other woman a change came over her which he was too disturbed to note.  She took on the subtleness that masked her as a rule, and her eyes were not pleasant.

“I could have told you all that and more.”

“More!  What more?” he questioned.

“Do you remember when I warned you and Dextry that they were coming to search your cabin for the gold?  Well, that girl put them on to you.  I found it out afterwards.  She keeps the keys to McNamara’s safety vault where your dust lies, and she’s the one who handles the Judge.  It isn’t McNamara at all.”  The woman lied easily, fluently, and the man believed her.

“Do you remember when they broke into your safe and took that money?”

“Yes.”

“Well, what made them think you had ten thousand in there?”

“I don’t know.”

“I do.  Dextry told her.”

Glenister arose.  “That’s all I want to hear now.  I’m going crazy.  My mind aches, for I’ve never had a fight like this before and it hurts.  You see, I’ve been an animal all these years.  When I wanted to drink, I drank, and what I wanted, I got, because I’ve been strong enough to take it.  This is new to me.  I’m going down-stairs now and try to think of something else—­then I’m going home.”

When he had gone she pulled back the curtains, and, leaning her chin in her hands, with elbows on the ledge, gazed down upon the crowd.  The show was over and the dance had begun, but she did not see it, for she was thinking rapidly with the eagerness of one who sees the end of a long and weary search.  She did not notice the Bronco Kid beckoning to her nor the man with him, so the gambler brought his friend along and invaded her box.  He introduced the man as Mr. Champian.

“Do you feel like dancing?” the new-comer inquired.

“No; I’d rather look on.  I feel sociable.  You’re a society man, Mr. Champian.  Don’t you know anything of interest?  Scandal or the like?”

“Can’t say that I do.  My wife attends to all that for the family.  But I know there’s lots of it.  It’s funny to me, the airs some of these people assume up here, just as though we weren’t all equal, north of Fifty-three.  I never heard the like.”

“Anything new and exciting?” inquired Bronco, mildly interested.

“The last I heard was about the Judge’s niece, Miss Chester.”

Cherry Malotte turned abruptly, while the Kid slowly lowered the front legs of his chair to the floor.

“What was it?” she inquired.

“Why, it seems she compromised herself pretty badly with this fellow Glenister coming up on the steamer last spring.  Mighty brazen, according to my wife.  Mrs. Champian was on the same ship and says she was horribly shocked.”

Ah!  Glenister had told her only half the tale, thought the girl.  The truth was baring itself.  At that moment Champian thought she looked the typical creature of the dance-halls, the crafty, jealous, malevolent adventuress.