The six o'clock train arrived in Manti that evening with many passengers, among whom was a woman of twenty-eight at whom men turned to look the second time. Her traveling suit spoke eloquently of that personal quality which a language, seeking new and expressive phrases describes as "class." It fitted her smoothly, tightly, revealing certain lines of her graceful figure that made various citizens of Manti gasp. "Looks like she'd been poured into it," remarked an interested lounger. She lingered on the station platform until she saw her trunks safely deposited, and then, drawing her skirts as though fearful of contamination, she walked, self-possessed and cool, through the doorway of the _Castle_ hotel--Manti's aristocrat of hostelries. Shortly afterwards she admitted Corrigan to her room. She had changed from her traveling suit to a gown of some soft, glossy material that accentuated the lines revealed by the discarded habit. The worldly-wise would have viewed the lady with a certain expressive smile that might have meant much or nothing. And the lady would have looked upon that smile as she now looked at Corrigan, with a faint defiance that had quite a little daring in it. But in the present case there was an added expression--two, in fact--pleasure and expectancy. "Well--I'm here." She bowed, mockingly, laughingly, compressing her lips as she noted the quick fire that flamed in her visitor's eyes. "That's all over, Jeff; I won't go back to it. If that's why--" "That's all right," he said, smiling as he took the chair she waved him to; "I've erased a page or two from the past, myself. But I can't help admiring you; you certainly are looking fine! What have you been doing to yourself?" She draped herself in a chair where she could look straight at him, and his compliment made her mouth harden at the corners. "Well," she said; "in your letter you promised you'd take me into your confidence. I'm ready." "It's purely a business proposition. Each realizes on his effort. You help me to get Rosalind Benham through the simple process of fascinating Trevison; I help you to get Trevison by getting Miss Benham. It's a sort of mutual benefit association, as it were." "What does Trevison look like, Jeff--tell me?" The woman leaned forward in her chair, her eyes glowing. "Oh, you women!" said Corrigan, with a gesture of disgust. "He's a handsome fool," he added; "if that's what you want to know. But I haven't any compliments to hand him regarding his manners--he's a wild man!" "I'd love to see him!" breathed the woman. "Well, keep your hair on; you'll see him soon enough. But you've got to understand this: He's on my land, and he gets off without further fighting--if you can hold him. That's understood, eh? You win him back and get him away from here. If you double-cross me, he finds out what you are!" He flung the words at her, roughly.