"Well, children, I was waiting on the veranda, obeying orders like a good girl, when, in the dim light I saw a man mount a stool and look into the room. He was very much interested. I crept up quite close to him without his knowing it. I heard him mutter to himself something about a 'weak kneed fool.' Then he drew a revolver. He looked quite determined and heroic"--she giggled reminiscently--"so I kicked the stool out from under him! About that time there was a most terrific crash, and somebody came out through the window." "But your cheek, your hair--" "I tried to hold him, but he was too strong for me. He hit me in the face, wrenched himself free, and ran. That was all; except that he dropped the pistol, and I'm going to keep it as a trophy." Keith was looking at her, deep in thought. "I don't understand," he said slowly. "Who could it have been?" Mrs. Sherwood shook her head. "Somebody about to shoot a pistol; that's all I know. I couldn't see his face." "Whoever it was, you saved one or both of us," said Keith, "there's no doubt in my mind of that. Let's see the pistol." It proved to be one of the smaller Colt's models, about 31 calibre, cap and ball, silver plated, with polished rosewood handles, and heavily engraved with scrollwork. Turning it over, Keith finally discovered on the bottom of the butt frame two letters scratched rudely, apparently with the point of a knife. He took it closer to the light. "I have it," said he. "Here are the letters C.M." "Charles Morrell!" cried both women in a breath. At this moment appeared Krafft, somewhat out of wind, followed by the surly and reluctant proprietor from whom the place took its name. Jake had been liberally paid to keep himself and his staff out of the way. Now finding that he was not wanted, he promptly disappeared. "Let's get to the bottom of this thing," said Keith decisively. "If those are really meant for Morrell's initials, what was he doing here?" "Mrs. Morrell came out with me," put in Nan. "Jake told me there was to be a supper party later," said Krafft. "It's clear enough," contributed Mrs. Sherwood. "The whole thing is a plot to murder or do worse. I've been through '50 and '51, and I know." "I can't believe yet that Sansome--" said Keith doubtfully. "Oh, Sansome is merely a tool, I don't doubt," replied Mrs. Sherwood. "I can find out to-morrow from Mex Ryan who sent the note," said Krafft. "Let's get out of this horrible place!" cried Nan with a convulsive shiver. Again they had great difficulty in finding any one to get their rigs, but finally repeated calls brought the hostler and Jake himself. The latter made some growl about payment for the entertainment, but at this Keith turned on him with such concentrated fury that he muttered something and slouched away. It was agreed that Krafft should conduct Mrs. Sherwood. They clambered into the two buggies and drove away. LXXVII