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Updated: May 8, 2025
One of them passed through 'bout ten minutes ago; Doc Fairbain was with her. Another party just went upstairs hunting Miss Maclaire, and as they haven't come down, I reckon it must have been her anything wrong?" "I'm not sure yet," shortly. "Who was this other person?" "Old fellow with white hair and whiskers swore like a pirate had the sheriff along with him."
Your brother must have told Hawley something some family secret which he felt could be utilized to his own advantage. Then he saw your picture, and was immediately reminded of the remarkable resemblance between you and Christie Maclaire. Evidently this discovery fitted into his plan, and made it possible for him to proceed.
I escorted Hope there, dressed as near like Miss Maclaire as possible, and left her inside the vestibule waiting for 'Black Bart' to appear. At the head of the alley I ran into Fairbain, told him something of the circumstances, and persuaded him to escort Miss Christie back to the hotel. He was not very hard to persuade.
I tell you, Fairbain, your only chance to ever win the interest of Christie Maclaire is to help us down this fellow Hawley. Yes, you can sit up; I reckon you're beginning to see clearer, ain't you?" Keith drew aside the flap of the tent to glance without, the light falling on Fairbain's face as he struggled to a sitting posture.
The latter stared at the two with some embarrassment, for a moment forgetful of his purpose. His gaze settled on the face of the lady. "Always getting you two mixed," he blurted forth. "Never saw such resemblance positively uncanny same hotel too means trouble this Miss Waite?" "No, Doctor; I am Miss Maclaire."
Keith paused at the landing, looking down into the deserted office, almost tempted to return and force Hawley into a confession of his purpose. It was easy for him to conceive what would be the final result of this interview between the artistic gambler and Miss Maclaire.
Still, stranger matings had occurred, and Cupid does not ask permission before he plays pranks with hearts. Keith turned again toward the stairs, only to observe a woman slowly cross the office and commence the ascent. She was in the shadow, her face even more deeply shaded by her hat, yet he stared at her in amazement surely, it was Miss Maclaire! Yet how could it be?
A freighter told the owld man she was at Sheridan, an' so he started there overland, hopin' ter head off 'Black Bart. Oi reckon we could a towld mor 'n that." "What do you mean?" "Why shure, honey, what's the use tryin' ter decave me? Didn't Jack Keith, wid his own lips, tell me ye was Christie Maclaire?" "But I'm not! I'm not, Mrs. Murphy. I don't even know the woman.
Say, I thought you were giving me that old gag about Christie Maclaire." "Certainly not; who is she?" "That's more than I know; fellow came to me at Carson, and said he'd met my sister on a stage west of Topeka. I knew he was lyin', because she's home over in Missouri. Finally, I got it out of him that she claimed to be my sister, but her name was Maclaire.
"Back up against the wall, Hawley," he commanded. "I hardly need to tell you how I shoot, for we, at least, have met before. Now, I'm going out, and leave you to your interview with Miss Maclaire, and I wish you happiness and success."
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