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Beyond even these considerations he was becoming aware of a pleasure in the girl's company altogether foreign to this mystery which they were endeavoring together to solve. He yearned to be with her, to look into her face, to mark how clearly the differing soul changed her from Christie Maclaire.
"Who is Miss Maclaire?" he asked. "Phyllis Gale." "Of course, but who is Phyllis Gale? What has she to do with General Waite? His daughter has told me she never heard of any one by that name." "Well, Keith, the old man has never told me very much; he's pretty close-mouthed, except for swearing, but I've read his papers, and picked up a point or two.
I have been trusting you might know something in your family history which would make it all plain." "But I do not," decisively. "You must believe me; not so much as a hint of any secret has ever reached me. There are only the four of us, Father, Mother, Fred, and I. I am sure there can be no secret; nothing which I would not know. Perhaps, if I could see Miss Maclaire "
As it is, I reckon you've heard love words before now." "Mr. Hawley, I have trusted you as a gentleman. I never came here except on your promise to bring me to my brother," and she stood erect before him. "You have no right to even assume that I am Christie Maclaire." "Sure not; I don't assume. I have seen that lady too often to be mistaken.
"Not likely," and Keith's brief laugh was not altogether devoid of bitterness. "We both called her Christie Maclaire, and she didn't even deny the name; she was evidently not proud of it, but there was no denial that she was the girl." "Dat wasn't like no name dat you called her when we was ridin'."
"I've just escorted a lady here from the train Miss Maclaire and want you to give her the very best room in your old shebang." The other looked at him doubtfully. "Hell, Bill, I don't know how I'm goin' to do that," acknowledged. "She wrote in here to the boss for a room; said she'd be along yesterday. Well, she didn't show up, an' so to-night we let a fellow have it. He's up there now."
"You're an adventuress a damn adventuress Hawley's mistress, probably a " "Now, see here, Waite," and Fairbain swung himself forward, "you drop that. Miss Maclaire is my friend, and if you say another word I'll smash you, sheriff or no sheriff." Waite glared at him. "You old fool," he snorted, "what have you got to do with this?"
She was anxious to learn who you were, but unfortunately, I have never, even yet, heard your name." "You have not?" "No; I left you at Fort Larned believing you Christie Maclaire supposing it your stage name, of course and was confirmed in this belief by finding in the holster of the saddle you had been riding an envelope bearing that address."
The owld Gineral swore loike a wild mon all the way back, Tommy said, an' the first thing he did at Carson City was to start huntin' fer 'Black Bart. He was two days gittin' on the trail av him; then he heard the feller was gone away trapsing after a singin' or dancin' gyurl called Christie Maclaire. She was supposed to be ayther at Topeky or Sheridan.
However interested he might otherwise feel, no Christie Maclaire could ever find entrance into the deeps of his heart, where dwelt alone the memory of his mother. He found the other horses turned into the corral, and was able, from their restless movements, to decide they numbered eight.
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