“Woman, what position do you fill in this house, and what were you hiding in the cellar for?” Mason questioned her sharply. The negress looked at him mutely. “She must be a little deaf,” muttered Scotty. “Come, tell me the truth,” Mason continued in a louder voice. “We won’t hurt you.” “I’se de cook,” she faltered, gaining courage from Mason’s reassuring smile. “And when dem gemmen’s done come heah and begins a fighting and shooting, why I done runs into de cellah fo mah life.” “Sounds good, Belinda, or whatever your name is,” he said, his face growing stern again, “But what were you signaling to Ricker for?” Her face took on a blank look. “Signaling,” she repeated in wonder, “’deed I wasn’t making signals to anybody, I was keeping just quiet as a mouse awaiting fo dem mens to leave.” Mason was inclined to believe the negress was telling the truth. “Scotty, you had better take her to Bud and the Marshal and let them question her,” he said after a short pause. “I will continue the search until you come back, and it would be a good idea to bring the Marshal back with you.” From the look on Scotty’s face it was evident he didn’t relish his task, but he complied with the request with fairly good grace and hustled the negress along while she continued to protest her innocence of any wrong. Left to himself, Mason again began a systematic search. Before the interruption by the negress, he had noted that one portion of the wall appeared to have oak beams running from top to bottom. He now went to this part of the wall and was feeling over one of the oak supports when his hand accidentally touched a knot which projected suspiciously out from the surface. He pressed hard on it, and to his delight that part of the wall began to swing slowly inward! Something was moving on the other side of the wall and he held his breath while waiting for an attack. Standing to one side he snapped his flashlight out and held his revolver pointed into the opening. Unable to resist a sudden impulse, he flashed on his light and found himself looking into the muzzle of a revolver and the villainous face of Pete Carlo, the halfbreed Mexican! Mason realized his helpless position, and a sneering smile came into the halfbreed’s face. “So,” he taunted, showing his wolfish teeth, “Ze brave American dog, he walk into a trap, ha?” “I settle first with the dog of a Gringo, then I steal the fair Josephine again, and she shall watch me torture you, Gringo dog.” His baleful eyes were looking gloatingly at his victim. Mason’s blood boiled at the mention of Josephine’s name. He held himself in check, however, as his only hope now was to gain time and give Scotty a chance to rescue him. He figured at the worst he would make a sudden attack on the halfbreed and chance taking him by surprise.