"That's a lie! They made her believe it, perhaps; but Willard could have won through as others have done. That scheming devil Marten got me side-tracked on purpose. He planned it, just as David put Uriah in the forefront of the battle. But, by God, he's not a king, any more than I'm a Hittite! Nancy Willard is not for him, nor ever will be. Give me--but I know you won't, and it doesn't matter, anyway, because I'd rather tear him with my hands." An overpowering sense of wrong and outrage had Power in its grip now, and his naturally sallow skin had assumed an ivory whiteness that was dreadful to see. So rigid was his self-control that he gave no other sign of the passion that was convulsing him. Turning toward the door, he thrust his right hand to the side of the leather belt he wore; but withdrew it instantly, for he was a law-abiding citizen, and had obeyed in letter and spirit the recently enacted ordinance against the carrying of weapons. He would have gone without another word had not MacGonigal slipped from behind the counter with the deft and catlike ease of movement which some corpulent folk of both sexes seem to possess. Running lightly and stealthily on his toes, he caught Power's arm before the latter was clear of the veranda which shaded the front of the store. "Whar 'r you goin', Derry?" he asked, with a note of keen solicitude in his gruff voice that came oddly in a man accustomed to the social amenities of a mining camp. "Leave me alone, Mac. I must be alone!" Then Power bent a flaming glance on him. "You've told me the truth?" he added in a hoarse whisper. "Sure thing. You must ha passed the minister between here an' the depot." "He had been there--to marry them?" "Yep." "And everyone is up at the ranch, drinking the health of Marten and his bride?" "Guess that's so." Power tried to shake off the detaining hand. "It's a pity that I should be an uninvited guest, but it can't be helped," he said savagely. "You see, I was carrying out the millionaire's orders--earning him more millions--and I ought to have taken longer over the job. And, Nancy too! What lie did they tell her about me? I hadn't asked her to be my wife, because it wouldn't have been fair; yet--but she knew! She knew! Let me go, Mac!" MacGonigal clutched him more tightly. "Ah, say, Derry," he cried thickly, "hev' you forgot you've left me yer mother's address in San Francisco? In case of accidents, you said. Well, am I ter write an' tell her you killed a man on his weddin' day, and was hanged for it?" "For the Lord's sake, don't hold me, Mac!" The storekeeper, with a wisdom born of much experience, took his hand off Power's arm at once, but contrived to edge forward until he was almost facing his distraught friend.