"Tottering angels!" said Van, "didn't that experience do you any good after all? No wonder the convicts wouldn't have you!" Beth was afraid for what Bostwick might have heard. She could not censure Van for what he had done; she saw he would make no explanations. At best she could only attempt to put some appearance of the commonplace upon the horseman's visit. "Mr. Van Buren came--to see Mrs. Dick," she faltered, steadying her voice as best she might. "They're--very old friends." "What's that?" demanded Bostwick, coming into the room and pointing at the bright nugget pin, lying exposed upon the table. "Some present, I suppose, for Mrs. Dick?" He started to take it in his hand. Van interposed. "It's neither for Mrs. Dick nor for you. It's a present I've made to Miss Kent." Bostwick elevated his brows. "Indeed?" Beth fluttered in with a word of defense. "It's just a little souvenir--that's all--a souvenir of--of my escape from those terrible men." "And Searle's return," added Van, who felt the very devil in his veins at sight of Bostwick helpless and enraged. Searle opened his lips as if to fling out something of his wrath. He held it back and turned to Beth. "It will soon be night. We have much to do. I suppose I may see you, privately--even here?" Beth was helpless. And in the circumstances she wished for Van to go. "Certainly," she answered, raising her eyes for a second to the horseman's, "--that is--if----" "Certainly," Van answered cordially. "Good-by." He advanced and held out his hand. She gave him her own because there was nothing else to do--and the tingling of his being made it burn. She did not dare to meet his gaze. "So long, Searle," he added smilingly. "Better turn that grouch out to pasture." Then he went. CHAPTER XX QUEENIE The shadows of evening met Van, as he stepped from the outside door and started up the street. Then a figure emerged from the shadows and met him by the corner. It was Queenie. Her eyes were red from weeping. A smile that someway affected Van most poignantly, he knew not why, came for a moment to her lips. "You didn't expect to see me here," she said. "I had to come to see if it was so." "What is it, Queenie? What do you mean? What do you want?" he answered. "What's the trouble?" "Nothing," she said. "I don't want nothing I can git--I guess--unless--Oh, _is_ it her, Van? Is it sure all over with me?" "Look here," he said, not unkindly, "you've always been mistaken, Queenie. I told you at the time--that time in Arizona--I'd have done what I did for an Indian squaw--for any woman in the world. Why couldn't you let it go at that?" "You know why I couldn't," she answered with a certain intensity of utterance that gave him a species of chill. "After what you done--like the only real friend I ever had--I belonged to you--and couldn't even take myself away."