"Yes," said Grant, "but I'm not going to give you that letter. Are you
coming in to supper? It really wouldn't commit you to anything."
"I am," said Chilton simply. "I have known you quite a long while, and
your assurance is good enough for me; but you would have found it
difficult to make other folks believe you."
They sat down at table, and Larry smiled as he said, "It's the first time
I have seen your scruples spoil your appetite, Chilton, but I had a notion
that you were not quite sure about taking any supper from me."
"Well," laughed Chilton, "that just shows how foolish a man can be,
because the supper's already right here inside me. When I came in
Breckenridge got it for me. Still, I have driven a long way, and I can
worry through another."
He made a very creditable attempt, and when he had been shown to his room
Grant glanced at Breckenridge.
"You know how I got the letter?"
"Yes," said Breckenridge. "Miss Torrance must have inadvertently slipped
it into the wallet. You couldn't have done anything else, Larry; but the
affair is delicate and will want some handling. How are you going to get
the packet back?"
"Take it myself," Grant said quietly.
It was ten o'clock the next night, and Hetty Torrance and Miss Schuyler
sat talking in their little sitting-room. Torrance was away, but his
married foreman, who had seen service in New Mexico, and his wife, slept
in the house, and Cedar Range was strongly guarded. Now and then, the
bitter wind set the door rattling, and there was a snapping in the stove;
but when the gusts passed the ranch seemed very still, and Miss Schuyler
could hear the light tread of the armed cow-boy who, perhaps to keep
himself warm, paced up and down the hall below. There was another at a
window in the corridor, and one or two more on guard in the stores and
stables.
"Wasn't Chris Allonby to have come over to-day?" asked Miss Schuyler.
"Yes," said Hetty. "I'm sorry he didn't. I have a letter for the Sheriff
to give him, and wanted to get rid of the thing. It is important, and I
fancy, from what my father told me, if any of the homestead-boys got it
they could make trouble for us. Chris is to ride in with it and hand it to
the Sheriff."
"I wouldn't like a letter of that kind lying round," said Miss Schuyler.
"Where did you put it, Hetty?"
Hetty laughed. "Where nobody would ever find it--under some clothes of
mine. Talking about it makes one uneasy. Pull out the second drawer in the
bureau, Flo."
Miss Schuyler did so, and Hetty turned over a bundle of daintily
embroidered linen. Then, her face grew very grave, she laid each article
back again separately.
"Nothing there!" said Miss Schuyler.
Hetty's fingers quivered. "Pull the drawer out, Flo. No. Never mind
anything. Shake them out on the floor."
It was done, and a litter of garments lay scattered about them, but no
packet appeared, and Hetty sat down limply, very white in the face.
"It was there," she said, "by the wallet with the dollars. It must have
got inside somehow, and I sent the wallet to Larry. This is horrible,
Flo."
"Think!" said Miss Schuyler. "You couldn't have put it anywhere else?"
"No," said Hetty faintly. "If the wrong people got it, it would turn out
the Sheriff and make an outcry everywhere. That is what I was told, though
I don't know what it was about."
"Still, you know it would be safe with Mr. Grant."
"Yes," said Hetty. "Larry never did anything mean in his life. But you
don't understand, Flo. He didn't know it was there, and it might have
dropped out on the prairie, while, even if he found it, how is he going to
get it back to me? The boys would fire on him if he came here."
Flora Schuyler looked frightened. "You will have to tell your father,
Hetty."
Hetty trembled a little. "It is going to be the hardest thing I ever did.
He is just dreadful in his quietness when he is angry--and I would have to
tell him I had been meeting Larry and sending him dollars. You know what
he would fancy."
It was evident that Hetty was very much afraid of her father, and as clear
to Miss Schuyler that the latter would have some cause for unpleasant
suspicions. Then, the girl turned to her companion appealingly.
"Flo," she said, "tell me what to do. The thing frightens me."
Miss Schuyler slipped an arm about her. "Wait," she said. "Your father
will not be here until noon to-morrow, and that letter is in the hands of
a very honest man. I think you can trust him to get it back to you."
"But he couldn't send anybody without giving me away, and he knows it
might cost him his liberty to come here," said Hetty.
"I scarcely fancy that would stop him."
Hetty turned, and looked at her friend curiously. "Flo, I wonder how it
would have suited if Larry had been fond of you."
Miss Schuyler did not wince; but the smile that was on her lips was absent
from her eyes. "You once told me I should have him. Are you quite sure you
would like to hand him over now?"
Hetty did not answer the question; instead, she blushed furiously. "We are
talking nonsense--and I don't know how I can face my father to-morrow,"
she said.
It was at least an hour later, and the cow-boy below had ceased his
pacing, when Hetty, who felt no inclination for sleep, fancied she heard a
tapping at the window. She sprang suddenly upright, and saw apprehension
in Miss Schuyler's face. The cow-boys were some distance away, and a
little verandah ran round that side of the house just below the window.
Flora Schuyler had sufficient courage; but it was not of the kind which
appears to advantage in the face of bodily peril, and the colour faded in
her cheeks. It was quite certain now that somebody was tapping at or
trying to open the window.
"Shake yourself together, Flo," said Hetty, in a hoarse whisper. "When I
tell you, turn the lamp down and open the door. I am going to see who is
there."
The next moment she had opened a drawer of the bureau, while as she
stepped forward with something glinting in her hand, Flora Schuyler, who
heard a whispered word, turned the lamp right out in her confusion, and,
because she dared not stand still, crept after her companion. With a swift
motion, Hetty drew the window-curtains back, and Miss Schuyler gasped. The
stars were shining outside, and the dark figure of a man was silhouetted
against the blue clearness of the night.
"Come back," she cried. "Oh, he's coming in. Hetty, I must scream."
Hetty's fingers closed upon her arm with a cruel grip. "Stop," she said.
"If you do, they'll shoot him. Don't be a fool, Flo."
It was too dark to see clearly, but Flora Schuyler realized with a painful
fluttering of her heart and a great relief whose the white face outside
the window must be.