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letting his eyes grow accustomed to the dim light that came in through the
windows.
He saw that the room contained arolltop desk, a swivel chair, another chair,
and a leather settee. Under a shelf filled with books there was also a table
covered with papers. A brass spittoon was on the floor.
A door stood open just a crack, and in that crack he saw a gun muzzle. Even
as he saw it, he realized that the something that had disturbed him since
entering the room was the faint smell of perfume mingled with the smell of
stale tobacco.
"There's no use of your shooting me," he said. "There would be nothing
gained. And besides" - he played a hunch - ''you'd have to explain what you
were doing here."
The door opened wider, and he could see a girl standing there, the gun still
held level. "Who are you?" she asked.
He smiled into the darkness, and some of the smile was in his tone when he
said, "I didn't ask you that"
"All right then-what do you want?"
"To put some pieces together."
"What was DeanCullane to you?" she asked.
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"A name - no more than that.Only somebody shot at me, and a thing like that
makes a man curious."
"DeanCullane would not shoot anyone - at least, I don't think he would."
"We never know, do we? Sometimes the most unexpected people will shoot. You
even have a gun yourself."
"But I would shoot, mister. I have shot before this."
"And killed?"
"I didn't have time to look. Anyway, DeanCullane did not shoot you, so who
did? And why are you here?"
"The man who shot at me was paid to do it. He is a man who does such things
for money."
"Ruble Noon!"she exclaimed.
"Is he the only one? I have heard there are a dozen here inEl Paso , or over
inJuarez , who would kill for hire."
By now he realized that she was young and appeared to be attractive, and she
was well gotten up, but not for the street ... at least not for El Paso
streets at this hour.And not for the vicinity of the Acme Saloon at any hour.
"Whatever you are here for," the girl said, "you have no business to be in
this office. You forced the door."
"And you had a key? Perhaps DeanCullane had a reason to give you a key."
"He did not give it to me, and it does not mean what you think. DeanCullane
was my brother."
"Was?"
"He is dead... he was killed... murdered."
"I am sorry. I didn't know that. If you are his sister you have a right to be
here." He reached toward the kerosene lamp. "Shall we have some light?"
"No! Please don't! He would kill me, too."
"Who?"
"Ruble Noon... the man who killed Dean."
He held himself very still, listening for something within him, but nothing
spoke to him. . . . Had he actually killed DeanCullane ?
"I doubt if he would kill a woman," he said. "It isn't done, you know."
He removed the lamp chimney, struck a match, and held it to the wick. As he
did so, she lowered the gun, and when he replaced the chimney, they looked
across the room at each other.
He saw a slender girl, with auburn hair and dark eyes; at least, in this
light they seemed to be dark. She was dressed for a party, but had a dark
cloak over her arm. She was lovely... a real beauty.
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Her eyes fell to his sleeve. "Where did you get that coat?" Her voice was
suddenly cold. "That is my brother's coat, Dean's coat I was with him when he
chose the material."
"It is? All I knew was that it was not mine. I must have taken it by
mistake."
"You don't know?"
"No." He touched his head. "I was struck on the head. I believe I tried to
escape from somewhere after I was struck, and I must have caught up a coat
from where mine was hanging."
"Where was this?"
"Northwest of here . . . quite a way off. . . . You spoke of Ruble Noon. Did
your brother know him?'
"No, but he was trying to discover who he was, what he was. I do not know
why, but I believe Dean had some information that related to Ruble Noon in
some way. He told me he had to see him, to talk to him, and he seemed to think
he knew where to find him."
"You are dressed for a party?" he said inquiringly.
"Yes. I came from one at the home of friends, and I must get back." But she
made no move to go. She was giving him all her attention. "What are you going
to do?" she asked.
"Stay here and look."
"For what?"
"Ma'am, somebody shot at me. Before they try it again I want to know why
they're shooting. I picked up DeanCullane's coat in the room where I got shot
at, or somewhere close by. DeanCullane is my only clue ... except one other."
"What is that?"
"I know who shot at me." He paused. "MissCullane , what do you know about the
Rafter D - TomDavidge's outfit?"
She hesitated before replying. That she knew something was obvious, and
apparently she was wondering whether to tell him of it or not. "I know nothing
about the ranch," she said finally. "I did know Fan, TomDavidge's daughter. We
went to school together."
He was getting nowhere. And he did not have much time, for without doubt the
people who had sent men gunning for him knew he was inEl Paso . They would
also have an idea of where to look for him.
As he talked his eyes had been taking in the room, locating possible hiding
places for whatever it was that he wanted.
"We must go," she said suddenly. "They will be wondering where I am."
"I'll stay," he said.
She smiled at him. "Of course, I cannot demand that you accompany me, but
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would a gentleman allow a lady to walk the streets ofEl Paso alone at this
hour?"
He shrugged. "I hope I am a gentleman, ma'am, but I have a distinct
impression that you got here by yourself ... and you are armed."
Her eyes narrowed a little as the skin tightened around them. This young lady
had a temper - and she was used to having her own way.
"If you stay here," she said, "I shall have you arrested. You broke in here,
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