"May I sit down?" he enquired. "No healthy man should be tired in the morning, but I endured a long horseback ride yesterday, and had an indifferent night's rest." "Where did you come from?" "I have been living for the past few days at Armstrong's ranch." "Are you the man who was shot last week?" "Yes; by mistake for your estimable sheriff I understand. You see, I came here from New York with a letter of introduction to Mr. Armstrong, being told that I might enjoy some good fishing and a little shooting, while Armstrong was described as a most admirable guide to these sports. I waited at the ranch day after day, hoping that Armstrong would return, but nobody seems to know yet where he is, or when he will return, so I came out here, hoping to get into telegraphic communication with him. I'm well enough now to take part in the chase, and I am loth to return to New York without having had any sport." "I still don't understand why you come to me about the matter." "I was told by his daughter that Armstrong had written to you. She does not know in the least where he is, and so on the chance of your having received a recent letter, I have called to enquire." "I see. Armstrong's letter to me was written from Chicago. It was a request for money. I had already loaned him a considerable sum and was unable to accede to his further demand. I answered to this effect, but have heard no more from him. It is likely that his own people have received word since the letter to me was written. Of course, you don't know the date of their last letter from him?" "Yes, I do," said Stranleigh, "I have the letter with me. It contains all the data of which Miss Armstrong is possessed, and she gave me the letter to assist me in my search." He drew the letter from his pocket, and showed the date to the lawyer, who consulted his file, and then said-- "It is just as I expected. That letter was written ten days later than the one I received. Sorry I am unable to give you any definite assistance, Mr. Stranleigh." Stranleigh rose. "I am sorry also. I suppose there wouldn't be much use in telegraphing to the address he gives in Chicago?" "I see no object in that. The place is probably a boarding-house, and he's not there." "Thank you, Mr. Ricketts. Good morning." Stranleigh went slowly down the steep stairs, and reaching the sidewalk, almost fell into the arms of Jim Dean. Here, then, was the man who had been following him. "Good morning, Mr. Dean." "Morning," snarled Jim, briefly. "I've just been up to see Mr. Ricketts, whom I think you mentioned the other day." "So I supposed," agreed Dean. "I expected to get some information from him about Mr. Armstrong, but he doesn't appear to know very much." "Well, you're the first man I ever heard say that S. A. Ricketts doesn't know very much, but I think by and by you will find that others know a great deal."