"What do you want?" the gambler growled. "A quiet talk, my friend. Come with me." "And, suppose I refuse?" the other sneered. "Oh, if you're afraid--" began Adrian. McTurpin threw his cards upon the table. Between him and a man across the board flashed a swift, unspoken message. "I'm at your service, Mr.--ah--Stanley." He led the way out, and Adrian following, gave a quick glance backward, noting that the man across the table had arisen. What he did not see was that Spear hovered in the offing, following them with watchful eyes. Toward the north they strolled, past a huddle of tents, for the most part unlighted. From some came snores and through many a windblown flap, the searching moonlight revealed sleeping figures. On a waste of sand-dunes McTurpin paused. "Now tell me what ye want," he snarled, "and be damned quick about it. I've small time to waste with meddlers." "On this occasion," Stanley said, "you'll take the time to note the following facts, Mr. McTurpin, Mr. Pillsworth--or whatever your true name may be--I've had a talk with Dandy Carter. He recognized you and Gasket when Burthen was killed, in spite of your beard. So did Rosa, of course, though she skipped the next morning. The Burthen girl is at my house." He paused an instant, thinking that he heard a movement in a bush nearby. "Well, that's all," he finished, "except this: If I find you here tomorrow, Alec McTurpin, murderer, card-sharp and abductor, I'll shoot you down like a dog." And then, with a splendid piece of bravery, he turned his back on the gambler, walking away with never a backward glance. He did not go directly home, but walked for an indeterminate interval till his spirit was more calm. The house was dark. Inez had obeyed him by leaving no trace of light. Doubtless by now they had retired. Suddenly he started, peered more closely at the door he was about to enter. It was slightly ajar. On the threshold, as he threw it open, Adrian found a lace-edged handkerchief. His wife's. Filled with quick foreboding, he called her name. His voice sounded hollow, strange, as if an empty house. Tremblingly he struck a light and searched the inner room. The bed had not been slept in. There was no one to be seen. CHAPTER XXII SHOTS IN THE DARK Frantically Adrian ran out into the darkness, crying his wife's name. His thought went, with swift apprehension, over the events of recent hours. The villainous face of Ned Gasket passed before his memory mockingly; the meaning look McTurpin gave his henchman at the gaming table. Finally, with double force, that movement in the bushes as he told the gambler of his former captive's whereabouts. By what absurd imprudence had he laid himself thus open to the scoundrel's swift attack? What farther whimsy of an unkind Fate had prompted his long walk?