Keith paused at the landing, looking down into the deserted office,almost tempted to return and force Hawley into a confession of hispurpose. It was easy for him to conceive what would be the final resultof this interview between the artistic gambler and Miss Maclaire. Inspite of the vague suspicion of evil which the plainsman had implantedwithin the woman's mind, the other possessed the advantage, and wouldcertainly improve it. All conditions were decidedly in his favor. Hemerely needed to convince the girl that she was actually the partysought, and she would go forward, playing the game he desired, believingherself right, totally unconscious of any fraud. The very simplicity ofit rendered the plot the more dangerous, the more difficult to expose.Hawley had surely been favored by fortune in discovering this singer whochanced to resemble Hope so remarkably, and who, at the same time, wasin such ignorance as to her own parentage. She would be ready to graspat a straw, and, once persuaded as to her identity and legal rights,could henceforth be trusted implicitly as an ally.
Realizing all this, and comprehending also how easily Hawley would winher confidence and overcome his warning by denouncing him as a fugitivefrom justice charged with murder, the temptation to return and fight itout then and there became almost overpowering. He had no fear of Hawley;indeed, physical fear had scarcely a place in his composition, but hewas not as yet sufficiently fortified with facts for the seeking of suchan encounter. He could merely guess at the truth, unable to produce anyproof with which to meet the gambler's certain denial.
A man came in through the office, and began climbing the stairs. He wasalmost at the landing before Keith recognized him or the other glancedup.
"Ah--seen her, I suppose?"
"Yes," returned Keith, not thinking it worth while to mention the lady'sdenial of having sent for him, "I have just come from there."
"Hum--thought you'd be through by this time--fine looking girl, ain'tshe?--believe I'll run in and chat with her myself."
"I would advise you to select some other time, Doctor," said theyounger, drily, "as the lady has a visitor at present."
"A visitor?" his face rosy, his shrewd eyes darkening. "Ah, indeed! Ofthe male sex?"
"I judge so--'Black Bart' Hawley."
"Good Lord!" so startled his voice broke. "Did he see you?"
"Rather; I backed him up against the wall with a gun while I made myadieu."
"But what brought him there? Are they acquainted?"
"Don't ask conundrums, Doctor. He may be your rival with the fairlady for all I know. If he is, my sympathies are all with you. OnlyI wouldn't try to see Miss Christie just now; I'd wait for a clearerfield. Hawley is probably not in the best of humor."
Fairbain stared into the face of the speaker, uncertain whether or nothe was being laughed at.
"Reckon you're right," he acknowledged at last. "Tired, anyhow--beenout all night--thought I'd like to see her again, though--finest lookingwoman I've met since I came West--remarkable eyes--well, I'll go alongto bed--see you again to-morrow, Jack."
Keith watched the sturdy figure stomp heavily down the hall-way, looseboards creaking under his positive tread, and smiled to himself at thethought that he might have, indeed, become truly interested in the musichall singer. Somehow, the doctor did not harmonize with the conceptionof love, or fit graciously into the picture. Still, stranger matings hadoccurred, and Cupid does not ask permission before he plays pranks withhearts. Keith turned again toward the stairs, only to observe a womanslowly cross the office and commence the ascent. She was in the shadow,her face even more deeply shaded by her hat, yet he stared at her inamazement--surely, it was Miss Maclaire! Yet how could it be? He hadleft that person scarcely five minutes before in "26," and this stairwaywas the only exit. His hand grasped the rail, his heart throbbingstrangely, as a suspicion of the truth crossed his brain. Could thisbe Hope? Could it be that she was here also? As her foot touched thelanding, she saw him, her eyes lighting up suddenly in recognition, awave of color flooding her cheeks.
"Why, Captain Keith," she exclaimed, extending her gloved hand frankly,"you have been to my room, and were going away. I am so glad I came intime."
"I hardly thought to meet you," he replied, retaining her fingers in hisgrasp. "When did you reach Sheridan?"
"Only last night. I had no idea you were here, until Doctor Fairbainchanced to mention your name. Then I at once begged him to tell you howexceedingly anxious I was to see you. You see, I was sure you would comeif you only knew. I really thought you would be here this morning, andremained in my room waiting, but there were some things I actually hadto have. I wasn't out ten minutes, so you mustn't think I sent you amessage and then forgot."
The nature of the mistake was becoming apparent, and Keith's gray eyessmiled as they looked into the depths of the brown.
"Your message had rather an amusing result," he said, "as the doctorinformed me that Miss Christie Maclaire was the one who desired mypresence."
"Miss Maclaire!" her voice exhibiting startled surprise. "Why--why--oh,I did forget; I never told him differently. Why, it was mostridiculous." She laughed, white teeth gleaming between the parted redlips, yet not altogether happily. "Let me explain, Captain Keith, forreally I have not been masquerading. Doctor Fairbain and I arrived uponthe same train last evening. He is such a funny man, but was very nice,and offered to escort me to the hotel. I remember now that although heintroduced himself, I never once thought to mention to him my name. Thetown was very rough last night--the company had paid off the graders Iwas told--and there was no carriage, so we were compelled to walk. I--Inever saw such a mob of drunken men. One came reeling against me, andbrushed aside my veil so as to see my face. The doctor struck him, andthen the marshal came up--you know him, Bill Hickock--and the impudentfellow actually declared he knew me, that I was Christie Maclaire. Itried to explain, but they hurried me on through the crowd to the hotel,and I became confused, and forgot. Do you suppose they registered me bythat name?"
"Quite likely; at least Fairbain still believes it was the fair Christiewhom he so gallantly escorted last night."
"How provoking," her foot tapping the floor, a little wrinkle betweenher eyes. "It seems as though I couldn't escape that woman--doesshe--does she really look like me?"
"At a little distance, yes," he admitted, "her form and face resembleyours very closely, but her hair is darker, her eyes have a differentexpression, and she must be five or six years older."
"Do--do you know her well?"
"No, indeed; I have seen her several times on the stage, but never mether until a few moments ago."
"A few moments ago! Do you mean she is here in this hotel?"
"Yes, Miss Hope, and that was what made the mistake in names solaughable. Fairbain gave me your message, but as coming from Christie. Iwas, of course, greatly surprised, yet responded. The lady very promptlydenied having sent for me, but as I was anxious to interview her myself,we managed to drift into conversation, and I must have passed a halfhour there. I might have been there still, but for an interruption."
"Oh, indeed!" with rising inflection.
He glanced quickly about, reminded of the situation.
"Yes, Hawley came in, and I would prefer not to meet him here, or havehim discover you were in Sheridan. Could we not go to your room? I havemuch to tell you."
Her questioning eyes left his face, and stared down over the rail. Aheavily built man, with red moustache, leaned against the clerk's desk,his face toward them.
"Do you know that man?" she asked quickly. "He followed me all the timeI was shopping. I--I believe he is the same one who jostled me in thecrowd last night."
Keith leaned past her to get a better view, but the fellow turned, andslouched away.
"I only had a glimpse, but have no recollection of ever seeing himbefore. You heard no name?"
"'Wild Bill' called him either Scott, or Scotty--if this is the sameman."
Keith's jaw set, the fighting light burning in his eyes. That was thename of the fellow rooming with Willou
ghby, the one who seemed to beHawley's special assistant. Was he here as a spy? His hands clinched onthe rail. He was anxious to go down and wring the truth out of him, butinstead, he compelled his eyes to smile, turning back to the girl.
"A mere accident probably; but about my request? May I talk with you afew moments alone?"
She bowed, apparently still dissatisfied regarding his lengthyconversation with Christie, yet permitted him to follow down the hall.She held open the door of "15," and he entered silently, not whollyunderstanding the change in her manner. She stood before the dresser,drawing off her gloves and removing her hat.
"Will you be seated, Captain; the arm-chair by the window is the morecomfortable." She turned toward him, almost shyly, yet with womanlycuriosity which would not be stilled. "Was your call upon Miss Maclairevery interesting? Did you admire her very much?"
Keith's eyes lifted to her face, his ears quick to detect the undertonein her voice.
"Interesting? yes, for I was seeking after information, and met withsome success. As to the other question, I am not sure whether I admirethe lady or not. She is bright, pretty, and companionable, and in spiteof her profession, at heart, I believe, a good woman. But really, MissHope, I was too deeply immersed in my purpose to give her personalitymuch consideration. Among other things we spoke of you."
"Of me? Why?"
"I told her something of our adventures together; of how both Hawleyand I had been confused. She was anxious to learn who you were, butunfortunately, I have never, even yet, heard your name."
"You have not?"
"No; I left you at Fort Larned believing you ChristieMaclaire--supposing it your stage name, of course--and was confirmed inthis belief by finding in the holster of the saddle you had been ridingan envelope bearing that address."
"I remember; it contained the note the man brought to me from Hawley;he had written it that way." She crossed the room, sinking down intoa chair facing him. "And you have actually confused me with ChristieMaclaire all this while? Have never known who I was?"
He shook his head.
"I told you to call me Hope; that is my name--I am Hope Waite."
"Waite!" he leaned forward, startled by the possibility--"not--not--"
"Yes," she burst in, holding out her hands, clasping the locket, "andthis was my father's; where did you get it?"
He took the trinket from her, turning it over in his fingers. Little bylittle the threads of mystery were being unravelled, yet, even now,he could not see very far. He looked up from the locket into herquestioning face.
"Did I not tell you? No; then it was an oversight. This was about thethroat of one of the men I buried at Cimmaron Crossing, but--but, Hope,it was not your father."
"I know," her voice choking slightly. "Mrs. Murphy found that out; thatis why I am here. I heard my father came to Sheridan, and I wanted youto help me find him."
He was thinking, and did not answer at once, and she went on in somealarm.
"Do you know anything about him, Captain Keith? Where is he? Why is hehere? Don't be afraid to tell me."
He pressed the locket back into her hand, retaining the latter,unresisted, within his own.
"I have not seen your father, Hope, but he was certainly here a few daysago, for Fairbain met him. They were together in the army. I am going totell you all I know--it seems to be a tangled web, but the ends must besomewhere, although, I confess, I am all at sea."
He told it slowly and simply, bringing forth his earlier suspicion, andhow he had stumbled upon facts apparently confirming them. He relatedher father's robbery, his loss of valuable papers, and the conversationbetween Hawley and Scott which led to the suspicion that these samepapers had fallen into the hands of the former, and were the basis ofhis plot. Hope listened, breathless with interest, her widely openedeyes filled with wonder. As he concluded speaking she burst forth:
"But I don't understand in the least, Captain Keith. Why did this manHawley send me to the Salt Fork?"
"He thought he was dealing with Christie Maclaire. He had some reasonfor getting her away; getting her where he could exercise influence overher."
"Yes--yes; but who is she?"
"That is what makes the matter so hard to unravel. She doesn't evenknow herself. Hawley is going to take advantage of her ignorance inthis respect, and convince her that she is the person he wishes her torepresent--but who is the person? If we knew that we might block thegame."
Both sat silent, striving to figure out some reasonable explanation.
"Do you know of any special papers your father carried?" he asked.
"No; none outside his business agreements."
"Has anyone ever disappeared connected with your family? Did you have anolder sister?"
"Fred and I were the only children. Why should you ask that question?"
"Because something of that nature would seem to be the only rationalexplanation. Your brother must have told Hawley something--some familysecret--which he felt could be utilized to his own advantage. Thenhe saw your picture, and was immediately reminded of the remarkableresemblance between you and Christie Maclaire. Evidently this discoveryfitted into his plan, and made it possible for him to proceed. He hasbeen trying ever since to get an interview with the woman, to soundher, and find out what he can do with her. He has written letters,sufficiently explicit to make it clear his scheme is based upon a willdrawn, as he claims, by Christie's grandfather. No doubt by this timehe has fully convinced the girl that she is the rightful heiress toproperty--as he stated to Scott--valued at over a million dollars.That's a stake worth fighting for, and these two will make a hardcombination. He's got the papers, or claims to have, and they must bethe ones stolen from your father. I have been trusting you might knowsomething in your family history which would make it all plain."
"But I do not," decisively. "You must believe me; not so much as ahint of any secret has ever reached me. There are only the four of us,Father, Mother, Fred, and I. I am sure there can be no secret; nothingwhich I would not know. Perhaps, if I could see Miss Maclaire--"
"I am convinced that would be useless," he interrupted, rising, andpacing across the floor. "If Hawley has convinced her of the justice ofthe claim, he will also have pledged her to secrecy. He is working outof sight like a mole, for he knows the fraud, and will never come to thesurface until everything is in readiness. I know a better way; I'llfind Fred, and bring him here. He would tell you whatever it was he toldHawley, and that will give us the clue."
He picked up his hat from the table, but she rose to her feet, holdingforth her hands.
"I cannot thank you enough. Captain Keith," she exclaimed frankly. "Youare doing so much, and with no personal interest--"
"Oh, but I have."
The long lashes dropped over the brown eyes.
"What do you mean?"
"That I have a personal interest--in you, Hope."
She stood silent, her bosom rising and falling to rapid breathing.
"You don't mind my calling you Hope? I haven't got used to Miss Waiteyet."
Her eyes met his swiftly.
"Of course, not. Such ceremony would be foolish after all you have donefor me. Do--do you call her Christie?"
He laughed, clasping her hands closer.
"I assure you no--she is strictly Miss Maclaire, and," solemnly, "shallbe to the end of the chapter."
"Oh, well, I didn't care, only that was what you called her when youwere telling me what she said. Are you going?"
"Yes, to find Fred; the sooner we can get this straightened out, thebetter."
Chapter XXIV. A Mistake in Assassination