“I never felt the slightest desire to destroy, no matter how angry I chanced to be.  I’ve always asserted that murderers, homicides, suicides, were irresponsible; that they were sick here.”  Ellsworth touched his forehead.  “I can’t see how any sane man can take his own or another’s life, no matter what the provocation.  But I’m not a doctor, and that’s an extreme view, I know.  Anyhow, you’ll agree that if you have Frank Law’s blood in your veins it won’t do to marry.”

“I haven’t got it,” the younger man groaned, his gaze turned sullenly downward.  “Even granting that I have, that’s no sign I’d ever—­run amuck the way he did.”

“You told me just now that you don’t know your family history?”

“Yes.  What little I’ve heard isn’t very pretty nor very much to the family’s credit.  They were a bad lot, I believe.”

“Frank Law had two brothers and a sister, had he not?”

“Yes.  One of my uncles was a tough hombre.  I’m told he notched his gun pretty well.”

“He was about the worst man of his day.  He was shot in Dodge City on one of his rampages.”

Dave raised shocked and curious eyes.  “You think he was crazy?”

“Most of those old-time gunmen would be so considered nowadays.  Some unbelievable stories are told about that uncle of yours.  The other one disappeared mysteriously.”

“I believe so.  He just walked away from his wife and family and business one day and was never heard of again.”

Ellsworth seemed to consider this admission significant.  “Now the sister, your aunt?”

“I think she’s somewhere in the East; I never saw her.”

“She is; she’s an inmate of an institution the name and address of which I have here.”  Ellsworth thrust his finger into the loose pile of documents before him.  Avoiding his caller’s eyes he continued:  “You can’t very well ignore such a family history, Dave.  I’ve never traced it back beyond the last generation, but you probably could if you tried.”

In a voice hardly his own, Dave articulated:  “God!  This is—­ hideous.”

“It is.  I’d like to believe that you don’t belong to the Laws, but I can’t put much faith in that childhood fancy of yours.  Run it down; convince yourself.  But first go to the girl, whoever she is, and tell her the facts.  If she’s the right sort—­”

“No, no!” The words were wrung from Dave’s lips.  “She knows too well how heredity acts; she’s had one experience.”

“Eh?  You say she knows—­Who is she, Dave?  Don’t tell me you mean—­ Alaire?”

Dave nodded.

“Damnation!” Ellsworth leaped to his feet and, striding around the desk, seized his caller roughly by the shoulder.  “What are you telling me?  Good God, Alaire!  A married woman!  So you—­cut under Ed Austin, eh?” Momentarily Ellsworth lost control of himself; his eyes blazed and his fingers tightened painfully.  “What damnable trick have you played on that girl?  Tell me before I choke you.”