Whereupon the sheriff takes out a cardboard and hands it over to the Canadian. It is somewhat battered from lying in the pocket of the officer, but the picture is plainly seen, and Craig holds his breath with sudden awe as the electric lights fall upon the features of the young miner whom he saw in the company of Dorothy. CHAPTER X. THE VENGEANCE THAT SLUMBERED TWENTY YEARS. Craig makes no remark, but hands the picture back. Somehow, instead of feeling exultant over the fall of a possible rival, his thoughts are wholly of Dorothy. It looks as if she must soon receive a terrible blow, and he feels sad. “Sorry if he’s a friend of yours, Mr. Craig, but business is business.” “Never saw the young man before half an hour ago. I only take an interest in him because he is with Samson Cereal’s daughter.” “Ah! that charming young woman is a child of the shrewd old speculator, eh?” “I trust you may not feel it your duty to arrest him while in her company. It would be a terrible shock,” continued Aleck. The sheriff manages to exchange a sly wink with Wycherley, as if to declare that he can see through a mill stone with a hole in it. “Probably not, Mr. Craig. At least, I hope such will not be the case. When my telegram arrives, I am bound to let as little time as possible slip through my hands before making sure of my man. In all my experience--and it’s been considerable, let me tell you, young fellow--I’ve found that these quiet chaps are the most to be feared, the most tricky.” “I don’t question it,” remarks Aleck, who seems disinclined to further conversation, and leaves the others to chat upon various topics, while he wrestles with the momentous question that has such a bearing on his life. Thus time passes. Those in the cyclorama building begin to pour forth, having feasted their eyes upon the glories of the Alps. Among them comes the couple whose actions have interested our friends. Sauntering behind they are not noticed in the throng heading for the exit. “Look,” says Wycherley, “they are three; it is the middle-aged duenna again. She sold herself to the pasha. Dorothy leans on a broken rod when she puts any faith in her.” That is one of the problems Craig is trying to solve. He feels that Dorothy should know the truth, and yet hardly cares to be the one to tell her. If he lets it go until the succeeding night that may be too late. What would he not give for a favorable opportunity. “They separate; he has business back in the Fair grounds. Stand here and watch,” says the Colorado officer, suddenly turning them into a place of shadow, which he is easily able to do, as he walks between Craig and the actor with arms locked. It is as he says. John Phœnix is bidding the young girl good-night. Aleck gnaws his mustache a little nervously as he watches them, just as though a sudden fear has burst into his bachelor heart lest the good-looking scamp may take Dorothy in his arms with a bold lover’s right.