THOUGH dim night-lights burned, she moved familiarly through the big rooms and wide halls, seeking vainly the half-finished book of verse she had mislaid and only now remembered.When she turned on the lights in the drawing-room, she disclosed herself clad in a sweeping negligee gown of soft rose-colored stuff, throat and shoulders smothered in lace.Her rings were still on her fingers, her massed yellow hair had not yet been taken down.She was delicately, gracefully beautiful, with slender, oval face, red lips, a faint color in the cheeks, and blue eyes of the chameleon sort that at will stare wide with the innocence of childhood, go hard and gray and brilliantly cold, or flame up in hot wilfulness and mastery.
She turned the lights off and passed out and down the hall toward the morning room.At the entrance she paused and listened.From farther on had come, not a noise, but an impression of movement.She could have sworn she had not heard anything, yet something had been different.The atmosphere of night quietude had been disturbed.She wondered what servant could be prowling about.Not the butler, who was nosion.
torious for retiring early save on special occasion.Nor could it be her maid, whom she had permitted to go that evening.
Passing on to the dining-room, she found the door closed.Why she opened it and went on in, she did not know, except for the feeling that the disturbing factor, whatever it might be, was there.The room was in darkness, and she felt her way to the button and pressed.As the blaze of light flashed on, she stepped back and cried out.It was a mere "Oh!" and it was not loud.
Facing her, alongside the button, flat against the wall, was a man.In his hand, pointed toward her, was a revolver.She noticed, even in the shock of seeing him, that the weapon was black and exceedingly long-barreled.She knew black and exceedingly long it for what it was, a Colt's.He was a medium-sized man, roughly clad, brown-eyed, and swarthy with sunburn.He seemed very cool.There was no wabble to the revolver and it was directed toward her stomach, not from an outstretched arm, but from the hip, against which the forearm rested.
"Oh," she said."I beg your pardon.You startled me.What do you want?""I reckon I want to get out," he answered, with a humorous twitch to the lips."I've kind of lost my way in this here shebang, and if you'll kindly show me the door I'll cause no trouble and sure vamoose.""But what are you doing here?" she demanded, her voice touched with the sharpness of one used to authority.
"Plain robbing, Miss, that's all.I came snooping around to see what I could gather up.I thought you wan't to home, seein' as I saw you pull out with your old man in an auto.I reckon that must a ben your pa, and you're Miss Setliffe."Mrs.Setliffe saw his mistake, appreciated the naive compliment, and decided not to undeceive him.
"How do you know I am Miss Setliffe?" she asked.
"This is old Setliffe's house, ain't it?"She nodded.
"I didn't know he had a daughter, but I reckon you must be her.
And now, if it ain't botherin' you too much, I'd sure be obliged if you'd show me the way out.""But why should I? You are a robber, a burglar.""If I wan't an ornery shorthorn at the business, I'd be accumulatin' them rings on your fingers instead of being polite," he retorted.
"I come to make a raise outa old Setliffe, and not to be robbing women-folks.If you get outa the way, I reckon I can find my own way out."Mrs.Setliffe was a keen woman, and she felt that from such a man there was little to fear.That he was not a typical criminal, she was certain.From his speech she knew he was not of the cities, and she seemed to sense the wider, homelier air of large spaces.
"Suppose I screamed?" she queried curiously."Suppose I made an outcry for help? You couldn't shoot me?...a woman?"She noted the fleeting bafflement in his brown eyes.He answered slowly and thoughtfully, as if working out a difficult problem."I reckon, then, I'd have to choke you and maul you some bad.""A woman?"
"I'd sure have to," he answered, and she saw his mouth set grimly.
"You're only a soft woman, but you see, Miss, I can't afford to go to jail.No, Miss, I sure can't.There's a friend of mine waitin' for me out West.He's in a hole, and I've got to help him out." The mouth shaped even more grimly."I guess I could choke you without hurting you much to speak of."Her eyes took on a baby stare of innocent incredulity as she watched him.
"I never met a burglar before," she assured him, "and I can't begin to tell you how interested I am.""I'm not a burglar, Miss.Not a real one," he hastened to add as she looked her amused unbelief."It looks like it, me being here in your house.But it's the first time I ever tackled such a job.I needed the money bad.Besides, I kind of look on it like collecting what's coming to me.""I don't understand," she smiled encouragingly."You came here to rob, and to rob is to take what is not yours.""Yes, and no, in this here particular case.But I reckon I'd better be going now."He started for the door of the dining-room, but she interposed, and a very beautiful obstacle she made of herself.His left hand went out as if to grip her, then hesitated.He was patently awed by her soft womanhood.
"There!" she cried triumphantly."I knew you wouldn't."The man was embarrassed.
"I ain't never manhandled a woman yet," he explained, "and it don't come easy.But I sure will, if you set to screaming.""Won't you stay a few minutes and talk?" she urged."I'm so interested.I should like to hear you explain how burglary is collecting what is coming to you."He looked at her admiringly.
"I always thought women-folks were scairt of robbers," he confessed."But you don't seem none."She laughed gaily.
