Stanley was about to make some rejoinder when they passed two men, one of whom looked at them curiously. He was McTurpin's companion of the bar-room episode. "Who's that?" asked Spear as Brown saluted the pair. "That's Reverend Wheeler, the new Baptist parson." "Yes, yes, I know. But the other one?" "Ned Gasket ... he's a friend of Dandy Carter's at the Eldorado." "And a Sydney Duck, I guess," the doctor added. "Do your own guessing, friend," said Brown, impatiently. Spear sighed. "We'll have to do more than guess about that stripe of citizen if we want law and order. It will take a rope I fear," he finished grimly. Brown led them round the back to a room not far from the one which had held Alice Burthen. "It's quieter here," he explained. "They get noisy sometimes along about midnight." He opened the door and struck a sulphur match by whose weird flicker they made out a bed with a tossing figure upon it. Adrian crossed over and took the nervous clutching hands within his own firm clasp. "Benito," he said. "Don't you know me? It's Adrian!" Brown with a lighted lamp came nearer, so that Stanley saw the sufferer's eyes. They were incognizant of realities. The murmuring voice droned on, fretfully, "I've looked for her everywhere. She's gone! gone!" Suddenly he cried out: "Alice! Alice!" half rising. But he tumbled back upon the pillow with a swift collapse of weakness and his words waned into mumbled incoherence. "Benito," Adrian addressed him earnestly, "Alice is with me. With me and Inez. She's safe. I'll bring her to you in the morning. Do you understand?" "With you--with Inez?" the sick man repeated. "Then tell her to come. I want her. Tell Alice to come--" "Tomorrow," Dr. Jones said, soothingly, "when you've had a chance to rest." "No, tonight," the fevered eyes stared up at them imploringly. Jones drew Adrian aside. "Pretend you'll do it or hell wear himself out. Then go. I'll give him something that will make him sleep." He emptied a powder in a tumbler of water and held it out to the sick man. "Drink this," he ordered, "it'll give you strength to see Miss Burthen." Benito's lips obediently quaffed the drink. His head lay quieter upon the pillow. Slowly, as they watched, the eyelids closed. "And now," said Adrian when he had assured himself that Benito slept, "I'm going for McTurpin." "Don't be a confounded fool," Dr. Jones said quickly. But Stanley paid no heed. He went directly into the saloon and looked about him. At a table, back toward him, sat a stocky figure, playing cards and reaching for the rum container at his side. Adrian stood a moment, musing; then his right hand slid down to his hip; a forward stride and the left hand fell on the player's shoulder. "We meet once more, McTurpin." The gambler rose so suddenly that the stool on which he sat rolled over. His face was red with wine and rage. His fingers moved toward an inner pocket. "Don't," said Adrian meaningly. The hand fell back.