and looked back at Warden, puzzled, for it seemed to him that Warden was
defying him; and he seemed to feel the atmosphere of complacence that
surrounded the man. His manner hinted of secret knowledge--strongly; it
gave Lawler an impression of something stealthy, clandestine. Warden's
business methods were not like Lefingwell's. Lefingwell had been bluff,
frank, and sincere; there was something in Warden's manner that seemed
to exude craft and guile. The contrast between the two men was sharp,
acute, startling; and Lawler descended the stairs feeling that he had
just been in contact with something that crept instead of walking
upright like a man.

A recollection of the woman he had met at the foot of the stairs came to
Lawler as he descended, and thought of her did much to erase the
impression he had gained of Warden. He grinned, thinking of how he had
caught her watching him as he had mounted the stairs. And then he
reddened as he realized that he would not have known she was watching
him had he not turned to look back at her.

He found himself wondering about her--why she had been in Warden's
office, and who she could be. And then he remembered his conversation
with Blackburn, about "chapper-owns," and he decided she must be that
woman to whom Blackburn had referred as "a woman at Lefingwell's old
place, keepin' Warden company." He frowned, and crossed the street,
going toward the railroad station building, in which he would find the
freight agent.

And as he walked he was considering another contrast--that afforded by
his glimpse of the strange woman and Ruth Hamlin. And presently he found
himself smiling with pleasure, with a mental picture of Ruth's face
before him--her clear, direct-looking, honest eyes, with no guile in