As Westcott descended the hotel-steps, the marshal saw him, and came forward.

His manner was prompt and businesslike.
"Hello, Jim," he said rather briskly, "I was sorter lookin' 'round fer yer; somebody said yer hoss was up at the stable.

Had a little trouble up your way last night, I hear." "Nothing to bother you, Dan; my Mexican watchman was shot up through a window of the shack." "Kill him ?" "Instantly; I told the coroner all about it.

Whoever the fellow was I reckon he meant the shot for me, but poor Jose got it." "Yer didn't glimpse the critter ?" "No, it was long after dark.

I've got my suspicions, but they'll keep.
Seen Bill Lacy this morning ?" The marshal's thin lips smiled grimly as his eyes lifted to Westcott's face.
"He's back there in his office.