He stared at the words, a deep crease between his eyes. It was a woman's handwriting, and at first glance there was nothing impossible in such an action on her part. Yet it was strange, if she had departed so suddenly, without leaving any message for him. After that meeting at the bridge, and the understanding between them, it didn't seem to Westcott at all probable that she would thus desert without some plausible explanation. His eyes narrowed with aroused suspicion as he looked up from the slip of paper and confronted the amused Timmons across the desk. "I'll keep this," he said soberly, folding it and thrusting it into his pocket. "All right"--and Timmons smiled blandly--"I got the money." "And that was all, was it--just this note and the cash? There was nothing addressed to me?" The hotel-keeper shook his head. "When did you see her last?" "'Bout nine o'clock, I reckon; she come down inter the dinin'-room fer a drink o' water." "She said nothing then about going away?" "She didn't speak to nobody--just got a swig an' went up-stairs agin." "How much longer were you up?" "Oh, maybe an hour; there was some boys playing poker here an' I waited round till they quit." "No message for Miss Donovan up to that time?" "No." "You left the door unlocked?" "Sure; them New York fellers was both out. I oughter waited till they come in, maybe, but I was plum' tired out." "When did they come back?" "Oh, 'bout midnight, I reckon. Bill Lacy an' Matt Moore was along with 'em. They didn't disturb me none; just went inter the sample-room, an' slept on the floor. I found 'em thar in the mornin', and Bill told me how they come to be thar--leastwise 'bout himself, fer Moore had got up an' gone afore I got down." "I see! And these New York people--they are still here?" "They wus all three down ter breakfast; ain't seen nuthin' of 'em since; I reckon they're up-stairs somewhar." "What became of Lacy?" "He's down in his saloon; he sed if you showed up, an' asked fer him, ter tell yer that's whar he'd be." "He told you that? He expected me to show up then?" "I reckon as how he did," and Timmons grinned in drunken good humour. "He's pretty blame smart, Bill Lacy is; he most allars knows whut's goin' ter happen." He leaned over the desk and lowered his voice. "If yer do hunt him up, Jim," he said confidentially, "you better go heeled." Westcott laughed. The first shock of the discovery of Miss Donovan's disappearance had passed, and he was himself again. He must have time to think and arrange some plan and, above all, must retain a clear mind and proceed coolly. "All right, old man," he said easily. "I'll try and look out for myself. I haven't eaten yet to-day. What can you find for me in the larder?" CHAPTER XX: TO COMPEL AN ANSWER