"You must stand by me," said Darragh. "So must the Mayor. He knows me through and through. Tell him to forget that hold-up. I stopped that man Sard. I frisked him. Tell the Mayor. I'll keep in touch with him." "Of course," said Stormont, "that settles it." "Thanks, old chap. Now go back to that girl and let her believe that you never found me." A slight smile touched their eyes. Both instinctively saluted. Then they shook hands; Darragh, alias Hal Smith, went back into the hemlock-shaded hole in the rocks; Trooper Stormont walked slowly down through the spruces. When Eve saw him returning empty handed, something flashed in her pallid face like sunlight across snow. Stormont passed her, went to the water's edge, soaked a spicy handful of sphagnum moss in the icy water, came back and wiped the blood from her face. The girl seemed astounded; her face surged in vivid colour as he unlocked the handcuffs and pocketed them and the little steel chain. Her lip was bleeding again. He washed it with wet moss, took a clean handkerchief from the breast of his tunic and laid it against her mouth. "Hold it there," he said. Mechanically she raised her hand to support the compress. Stormont went back to the shore, recovered her rifle from the shallow water, and returned with it. As she made no motion to take it, he stood it against the tree to which he had tied her. Then he came close to her where she stood holding his handkerchief against her mouth and looking at him out of steady eyes as deeply blue as gentian blossoms. "Eve," he said, "you win. But you won't forgive me. ... I wish we could be friends, some day. ... We never can, now. ... Good-bye." Neither spoke again. Then, of a sudden, the girl's eyes filled; and Trooper Stormont caught her free hand and kissed it; -- kissed it again and again, -- dropped it and went striding away through the underbrush which was now all rosy with the rays of the sunset. * * * * * After he had disappeared, the girl, Eve, went to the cleft in the rocks above. "Come out," she said contemptuously. "It's a good thing you hid, because there was a real man after you; and God help you if he ever finds you!" Hal Smith came out. "Pack in your meat," said the girl curtly, and flung his rifle across her shoulder. Through the ruddy afterglow she left the way homeward, a man's handkerchief pressed to her wounded mouth, her eyes preoccupied with the strangest thoughts that ever had stirred her virgin mind. Behind her walked Darragh with his load of venison and his alias, - and his tongue in his cheek. Thus began the preliminaries toward the ultimate undoing of Mike Clinch. Fate, Chance, and Destiny had undertaken the job in earnest. * * * * * Episode Two The Ruling Passion * * * * * I Nobody understood how Jose Quintana had slipped through the Secret Service net spread for him at every port.