"
"Then he does do splendid things," she said softly, as if affirming to
herself.
I walked on then, having gotten a glimpse of Colonel Sampson in the
background. Before I reached the corrals Sally came running after me,
quite flushed and excited.
"Russ, my uncle wants to see you," she said. "He's in a bad temper.
Don't lose yours, please."
She actually took my hand. What a child she was, in all ways except that
fatal propensity to flirt. Her statement startled me out of any further
thought of her. Why did Sampson want to see me? He never noticed me. I
dreaded facing him--not from fear, but because I must see more and more
of the signs of guilt in Diane's father.
He awaited me on the porch. As usual, he wore riding garb, but evidently
he had not been out so far this day. He looked worn. There was a furtive
shadow in his eyes. The haughty, imperious temper, despite Sally's
conviction, seemed to be in abeyance.
"Russ, what's this I hear about Martin's saloon being cleaned out?" he
asked. "Dick can't give particulars."
Briefly and concisely I told the colonel exactly what had happened. He
chewed his cigar, then spat it out with an unintelligible exclamation.
"Martin's no worse than others," he said.
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