"By Harry! He must have. Your cheek's powder-marked," cried Brannan, running up and holding the lamp for a better view. "See that, gentlemen? They tried to murder Mr. Stanley. This is self-defense. Who fired at you?" "This fellow!" Adrian indicated the sprawled figure. "Must have been. I shot at the flash from his gun; then I aimed at McTurpin. I missed him, probably." "Not so sure of that," said Brown, who had come running from his hostelry across the square. "Look, here's blood on the floor. A trail--let's follow it. Either McTurpin or the woman was hit." "I tried to avoid her," Adrian said. "I--hope I didn't--" "Never mind. You were attacked. They're all of a parcel," cried a man who wore the badge of a constable. "We've had our eyes on the three of them a long time. This fellow," he indicated Gasket, "was one of the crowd suspected of the Warren murders. He's the one who killed old Burthen. Dandy Carter let it out tonight; he's half delirious. We'd have strung him up most probably, if you hadn't--" "Come," urged Brannan, "let us follow this trail to the wounded. Perhaps he or she needs assistance." He held the lamp low, tracing the dark spots across an intervening space to the rear entrance; thence to a hitching rack where several horses still were tethered. "They mounted here," the constable decided. "One horse probably. No telling which it was that got the bullet." Adrian was conscious, suddenly, that his hand still held the pistol. He flung it from him with a gesture of repulsion. "My wife!" he said faintly, "Inez!" "What d'ye mean?" asked Spear. "Talk up, man. What's wrong?" "She's gone--abducted," Stanley answered. "Who'll lend me a horse. I must find McTurpin. He knows--" Unexpectedly Spear complicated matters. "You're mistaken, Stanley. I followed when you and he took your walk together. I suspected treachery--when Gasket sneaked along behind. I had McTurpin covered when you turned your back on him. He came here after that. Both of them have been here all the evening." Stanley put his hand to his head with a bewildered gesture. "Good God! Then where--? What has become of them?" "Maybe they got wind of Benito's presence. Maybe they're with him. Let's see." They hurried back to the City Hotel. "The room's dark," Spear lighted a taper and they softly opened the door. Benito slept; beside him drowsed a red-shirted miner slumped upon a chair. Adrian shook him, whispering, "Where's Doctor Jones?" "Don't know," muttered the watcher, sleepily. "This yere is his busy night I reckon. Asked me to look after this galoot. Feed him four fingers of that pizen if he woke." His head drooped forward and a buzzing sound came from his open mouth. Once more Adrian shook him. "Didn't he say anything about his destination?" "His which, pard?" "Where he was bound," the young man said half angrily. This time the other sat up straighter. For the first time he really awoke and took intelligent cognizance of the situation.