He was beginning to shrug the thought away and smile at his own nervousness, when he heard that unmistakable sound of a foot pressing the floor. And then he remembered that he had left his gun belt far from the bed. In a burning moment that lesson was printed in his mind, and would never be forgotten. Slowly as possible and without sound, he drew up his feet little by little, spread his arms gently on either side of him, and made himself tense for the effort. Whoever it was that entered, they might be taken by surprise. He dared not lift his head to look; and he was on the verge of leaping up and at the approaching noise, when a whisper came to him softly: "Black Jack!" The soft voice, the name itself, thrilled him. He sat erect in the bed and made out, dimly, the form of Kate Pollard in the blackness. She would have been quite invisible, save that the square of the window was almost exactly behind her. He made out the faint whiteness of the hand which held her dressing robe at the breast. She did not start back, though she showed that she was startled by the suddenness of his movement by growing the faintest shade taller and lifting her head a little. Terry watched her, bewildered. "I been waiting to see you," said Kate. "I want to--I mean--to--talk to you." He could think of nothing except to blurt with sublime stupidity: "It's good of you. Won't you sit down?" The girl brought him to his senses with a sharp "Easy! Don't talk out. Do you know what'd happen if Dad found me here?" "I--" began Terry. But she helped him smoothly to the logical conclusion. "He'd blow your head off, Black Jack; and he'd do it--pronto. If you are going to talk, talk soft--like me." She sat down on the side of the bed so gently that there was no creaking. They peered at each other through the darkness for a time. She was not whispering, but her voice was pitched almost as low, and he wondered at the variety of expression she was able to pack in the small range of that murmur. "I suppose I'm a fool for coming. But I was born to love chances. Born for it!" She lifted her head and laughed. It amazed Terry to hear the shaken flow of her breath and catch the glinting outline of her face. He found himself leaning forward a little; and he began to wish for a light, though perhaps it was an unconscious wish. "First," she said, "what d'you know about Dad--and Denver Pete?" "Practically nothing." She was silent for a moment, and he saw her hand go up and prop her chin while she considered what she could say next. "They's so much to tell," she confessed, "that I can't put it short. I'll tell you this much, Black Jack--" "That isn't my name, if you please." "It'll be your name if you stay around these parts with Dad very long," she replied, with an odd emphasis. "But where you been raised, Terry? And what you been doing with yourself?"