And suddenly he was there in the midst of the house. No one had stopped him--at least, no one had interfered with his servant. Big George had on a white suit and a dappled green necktie; he stood directly behind his master and made him look like a small boy. For Donnegan was in black, and he had a white neckcloth wrapped as high and stiffly as an old-fashioned stock. Altogether he was a queer, drab figure compared with the brilliant Donnegan of that afternoon. He looked older, more weary. His lean face was pale; and his hair flamed with redoubled ardor on that account. Never was hair as red as that, not even the hair of Lord Nick, said the people in Milligan's this night. He was perfectly calm even in the midst of that deadly silence. He stood looking about him. He saw Gloster, the real estate man, and bowed to him deliberately. For some reason that drew a gasp. Then he observed a table which was apparently to his fancy and crossed the floor with a light, noiseless step, big George padding heavily behind him. At the little round table he waited until George had drawn out the chair for him and then he sat down. He folded his arms lightly upon his breast and once more surveyed the scene, and big George drew himself up behind Donnegan. Just once his eyes rolled and flashed savagely in delight at the sensation that they were making, then the face of George was once again impassive. If Donnegan had not carried it off with a certain air, the whole entrance would have seemed decidedly stagey, but The Corner, as it was, found much to wonder at and little to criticize. And in the West grown men are as shrewd judges of affectation as children are in other places. "Putting on a lot of style, eh?" said Jack Landis, and with fierce intensity he watched the face of Nelly Lebrun. For once she was unguarded. "He's superb!" she exclaimed. "The big fellow is going to bring a drink for him." She looked up, surprised by the silence of Landis, and found that his face was actually yellow. "I'll tell you something. Do you remember the little red-headed tramp who came in here the other night and spoke to me?" "Very well. You seemed to be bothered." "Maybe. I dunno. But that's the man--the one who's sitting over there now all dressed up--the man The Corner is talking about--Donnegan! A tramp!" She caught her breath. "Is that the one?" A pause. "Well, I believe it. He's capable of anything!" "I think you like him all the better for knowing that." "Jack, you're angry." "Why should I be? I hate to see you fooled by the bluff of a tramp, though." "Tush! Do you think I'm fooled by it? But it's an interesting bluff, Jack, don't you think?" "Nelly, he's interesting enough to make you blush; by heaven, the hound is lookin' right at you now, Nelly!" He had pressed her suddenly against the wall and she struck back desperately in self-defense. "By the way, what did he want to see you about?"