"But what have I got to do with all this?" "Wait. I met a man, a twin-brother of the devil. He made a suggestion. I agreed to it. We heard that you and your pay-master were coming across in a stage. We stopped the stage, and robbed you of twelve hundred and fifty dollars. That was all you had in currency. We didn't want checks." "Go ahead," said Mills, without changing countenance. "I was called Hell-in-the-Mud. My partner was Sam Bradley. We got back to town, and were seen that night in a gambling house. But we didn't play--broke, presumably. We were not suspected. Sam died three months afterwards in Deadwood. We had run through with your money. The town buried him. I won't pretend to give you any flub-dub about reform, any of the guff of a mother's dying prayers, for that has been worked too often. But I got a newspaper from Connecticut with a prayer in it--the last words of an old woman. That's all right. We'll let that go. But I resolved to pay you--my part and Sam's too. So I drifted about looking for something to do, and at last I rented a farm not far from here, and went to work. My luck was good. I skinned every farmer in the neighborhood. All I wanted was enough money to clear my conscience. Something--it must have been the devil--gave me a strange insight into cattle trading. Anyway I prospered, and the other day sold out. And here's your money, with six per cent interest for five years." He placed a roll of paper on the table. Mills looked at him and then at the card which he had taken up. "My name is Newton," said Milford--"William Milford Newton. There's your money." Mills took up the money, and then looked at his visitor. "I remember the occasion," said he. "And you have worked all this time. Very commendable, I assure you. How much more have you?" "Less than ten dollars. Doesn't that satisfy you?" "Oh, yes, I'm satisfied, but did it occur to you that the law might have to be satisfied?" "The law?" Milford gasped. "Yes. You seem to have forgotten that part of it." "The law!" said Milford. "Yes, sir, the law." "And that means the penitentiary," said Milford, looking hard at him. "That's what it means. Will you go quietly with me, or shall I send for an officer?" "I came here quietly, didn't I? Yes, I'll go with you. I'm prepared to take my medicine. When do you leave?" "At twelve to-night." "Will you let me go out on my word of honor? I'll be back by six o'clock." "Yes, but on your word of honor." "Thank you. I will be here by six. I didn't think--but it's all right. Yes, the law, of course. I'll be here by six." * * * * * A loud knock startled Gunhild, and she ran to the door and opened it in nervous haste. Her eyes leaped out, and then she shrank back. "Oh, what is the matter?" she cried. "Nothing," Milford answered, trying to smile. "But you look old," she said. "You have scared me."