He did not speak until they entered the stage office, when, passing through it, he said peremptorily: “Follow me.” The few loungers, who seemed to recognize him, made way for him with a singular deference that impressed Ezekiel, already dominated by his manner. The first perception in his mind was that Blandford had in some strange way succeeded to Demorest's former imperious character. There was no trace left of the old, gentle subjection to Joan's prim precision. Ezekiel followed him out of the office as unresistingly as he had followed Demorest into the stables on that eventful night. They passed down the narrow street until Blandford suddenly stopped short and turned into the crumbling doorway of one of the low adobe buildings and entered an apartment. It seemed to be the ordinary living-room of the house, made more domestic by the presence of a silk counterpaned bed in one corner, a prie Dieu and crucifix, and one or two articles of bedchamber furniture. A woman was sitting in deshabille by the window; a man was smoking on a lounge against the wall. Blandford, in the same peremptory manner, addressed a command in Spanish to the inmates, who immediately abandoned the apartment to the seeming trespasser. Motioning his companion to a seat on the lounge just vacated, Blandford folded his arms and stood erect before him. “Well,” he said, with quick, business conciseness, “what do you want?” Ezekiel was staggered out of his complacency. “Wa'al,” he stammered, “I only reckoned to ask the news, ez we are old friends--I--” “How much do you want?” repeated Blandford, impatiently. Ezekiel was mystified, yet expectant. “I can't say ez I exakly understand,” he began. “How--much--money--do--you--want,” continued Blandford, with frigid accuracy, “to get up and get out of this place?” “Wa'al, consideren ez I'm travellin' here ez the only authorized agent of a first-class Frisco Drug House,” said Ezekiel, with a mingling of mortification, pride, and hopefulness, “unless you're travellin' in the opposition business, I don't see what's that to you.” Blandford regarded him searchingly for an instant. “Who sent you here?” “Dilworth & Dusenberry, Battery Street, San Francisco. Hev their card?” said Ezekiel, taking one from his waistcoat pocket. “Corwin,” said Blandford, sternly, “whatever your business is here you'll find it will pay you better, a ---- sight, to be frank with me and stop this Yankee shuffling. You say you have been with Demorest--what has HE got to do with your business here?” “Nothin',” said Ezekiel. “I reckon he wos ez astonished to see me ez you are.” “And didn't he send you here to seek me?” said Blandford, impatiently. “Considerin' he believes you a dead man, I reckon not.” Blandford gave a hard, constrained laugh. After a pause, still keeping his eyes fixed on Ezekiel, he said: “Then your recognition of me was accidental?”