There was a strength of purpose, a grim, unchangeable earnestness about the man which impressed her greatly, which won her admiration.

He was like some great faithful dog, ready to die at his master's bidding.

Down in her heart she wondered what would be the tragic end of this night's confidence.
"There goes a good friend," she said slowly, under her breath, "and a bad enemy." Then she turned away, aroused to her own insistent mission of warning, and entered the silent hotel.
The night clerk, a mere boy with pallid cheeks and heavy eyes bespeaking dissipation, reclined on a couch behind the rough counter, reading a Denver paper.

He was alone in the room, excepting a drunken man noisily slumbering in an arm-chair behind the stove.

Miss Norvell, clasping her skirts tightly, picked her way forward across the littered floor, the necessity for immediate action rendering her supremely callous to all ordinary questions of propriety.
"Can you inform me if Mr.Winston is in his room ?" she questioned, leaning across the counter until she could see the clerk's surprised face.
The young fellow smiled knowingly, rising instantly to his feet.
"Not here at all," he returned pleasantly.