believes my only chance is through the use of money advanced by Fred
Cavendish. He'd ride through hell to lick me. Why, look here, Miss
Donovan, when Bill Lacy had me stuck up against the wall last night at
the hotel with a gun at my head, he lost his temper and began to taunt me
about not getting any reply from my telegrams and letters. How did he
know about them? Beaton must have told him. There's the answer; those
fellows are in cahoots, and if Fred is actually alive, Bill Lacy knows
where he is, and all about it."

She did not answer. Westcott's theory of the situation, his quick
decision that Frederick Cavendish still lived, completely overturned her
earlier conviction. Yet his argument did not seem unfair or his
conclusion impossible. Her newspaper experience had made her aware that
there is nothing in this world so strange as truth, and nothing so
unusual as to be beyond the domain of crime.

"What do you think?" he asked quietly.

"Oh, I do not know; it all grows less comprehensible every moment. But
whatever is true I cannot see that anything remains for us to do, but
wait and watch the actions of these people; they are certain to betray
themselves. We have been here together now longer than we should, and I
must return to the hotel."

"You expect Beaton to seek you?"

She smiled.

"He appeared very devoted, quite deeply interested; I hope it continues."