The dispatch was from Hugh Worthington at Tacoma, and the old fox had well chosen the only way to disarm Clayton's watchful suspicions.
The words seemed frank enough, and Randall Clayton's fingers trembled with a certain pleasurable thrill as he read.
"She still thinks of me, poor Little Sister, after all these years of estrangement.

Perhaps only the greed of gold lies behind the whole thing.

He seized a telegraph blank and studied over his reply.
"What shall I wire to him ?" the puzzled man vainly demanded.

He tried to mark out the false and true between the words of father and daughter.

It all seemed fair enough in a way, according to their different natures.
"Tacoma, July 2, 1897.
"Come at once to Cheyenne.