For he knew that the passions of Deveny for the girl were thoroughly aroused. He had seen in Deveny's eyes there in Lamo a flame--when Deveny looked at Barbara--that told him more about the man's passions than Deveny himself suspected. He grinned coldly as he leaned easily against the stable door; for men of the Deveny type always aroused him--their personality had always seemed to strike discord into his soul; had always fanned into flame the smoldering hatred he had of such men; had always brought into his heart those savage impulses which he had sometimes felt when he was on the verge of yielding to the urge to become what men had thought him--and what they still thought him--a conscienceless killer. His smile now was bitter with the hatred that was in his heart for Deveny--for Deveny had cast longing, lustful eyes upon Barbara Morgan--and the smile grew into a sneer as he drew out paper and tobacco and began to roll a cigarette. But as he rolled the cigarette his fingers stiffened; the paper and the tobacco in it dropped into the dust at his feet; and he stiffened, his lips straightening, his eyes flaming with rage, his muscles tensing. For a horseman had appeared from out of the moonlit haze beyond the river. Rigid in the doorway--standing back a little so that he might not be seen--Harlan watched the man. The latter brought his horse to a halt when he reached the far corner of the ranchhouse, dismounted, and stole stealthily along the wall of the building. Harlan was not more than a hundred feet distant, and the glare of the moonlight shining full on the man as he paused before the door into which Barbara Morgan had gone, revealed him plainly to Harlan. The man was Meeder Lawson. Harlan's lips wreathed into a grin of cold contempt. He stepped quickly to Purgatory, drew his rifle from its saddle sheath and returned to the doorway. And there, standing in the shadows, he watched Lawson as the latter tried the door and, failing to open it, left it and crept along the wall of the building, going toward a window. The window also was fastened, it seemed, for Lawson stole away from it after a time and continued along the wall of the house until he reached the southeast corner. Around that, after a fleeting glance about him, Lawson vanished. Still grinning--though there was now a quality in the grin that might have warned Lawson, had he seen it--Harlan stepped down from the doorway, slipped into the shadow of the corral fence, and made his way toward the corner where Lawson had disappeared. CHAPTER XI THE INTRUDER After closing the door through which she had entered, Barbara Morgan slipped the fastenings into place and stood, an ear pressed against the door, listening for sounds that would tell her Harlan had followed her. But beyond the door all was silence.