In the valley the village slept, with not a solitary light gleaming from a window. The lonely man on the lawn was puffing at a cigar. At intervals he seemed to forget his cigar and finally it went out. The last guest had left the hotel veranda and disappeared within when the man realized his cigar was extinguished and threw the stump away. In a moment he brought forth another weed, tore off the end with his teeth, and paused near a clump of shrubbery to strike a match. The glow of the match, shaded in the hollow of his hands as he held it to the end of his cigar, distinctly revealed the features of Benton Hammerswell. The man’s face bore a haggard, careworn expression. There was a rustle amid the shrubbery. With a start Hammerswell dropped the blazing match and clapped his hand on his hip pocket. He had reached for his revolver, but it was not there. “Forgot I’d lost it,” he muttered, falling back a step. Forth from the shrubbery advanced the dark figure of a man. “Who are you?” demanded Hammerswell. “I guess you know me,” answered a voice. “I’ve been watching for you. Wasn’t sure it was you till I saw your face by the light of that match.” Hammerswell was startled and astounded by the voice. “Is it you, Luke Grimes?” he demanded. “Hit it first guess,” was the retort. “Well, what in blazes are you doing here? I supposed you were well on your way to San Francisco.” “Think likely you did,” retorted Grimes. “You reckoned I wouldn’t darst come back here. That’s why you broke your promise ter me. That’s why you didn’t send me the money you promised me when I reached Montreal. I waited fer it two days, and then I decided to come back here and git it myself.” “You insane idiot!” snarled Hammerswell, in a low tone. “You’re right in thinking I didn’t fancy you would be crazy enough to return here. If you’re seen and recognized you will be arrested instantly.” “I guess that’s straight,” confessed Grimes coolly. “But if you didn’t want that to happen it was up to you to keep your promise. Don’t be feeling in your pockets. I’ve got a gun myself.” “Don’t worry,” said Hammerswell, pulling out his handkerchief and mopping his face. “I’ve no pistol. It was stolen from my room to-day.” “Mebbe that’s so,” chuckled Grimes; “and then agin’ mebbe it ain’t. You’re such a liar no man can believe you. I’ll watch ye, and don’t yer forgit that. If you start any shooting I’ll join in. I’m pretty desperate, Hammerswell, and you can’t snuff me out without getting your dose in return.” “Oh, dry up!” growled the manager of the Maplewood team. “I’m not a lunatic, if you are. I’m not anxious to face a murder charge.” “Jest what I thought,” nodded Grimes, again chuckling villainously. “That’s why I came back here. You know that I know something about you that might put you where you’d have to face a murder charge.” “’Sh! Stop that fool talk! There’s a rustic seat over yonder. Come over and sit down.”