“After he came out you later came up from the forward part of the coach and entered Mr. Gildersleeve’s stateroom,” continued Miss Stone. “When the door closed behind you, the dark woman leaned over and asked: ‘Do you know that man?’ I replied that I did not. Then she said: ‘His appearance fits the description of a notorious western bandit. I am one of the number of detectives who are shadowing him, so please don’t tell anybody what you see me doing.’
“Before I could recover from my surprise she tip-toed to the stateroom and stood with her back to it and her hands behind her. At first I thought she was simply waiting for you to come out. But when some little time later the porter came up the aisle she hastily withdrew her hands and I saw she had been holding against the door’s key-hole a small black boxlike instrument.”
“A dictaphone!” Hammond gasped.
“That’s what I took it to be. She kept it hidden from the porter and walked forward and out of the coach. When you came out of Mr. Gildersleeve’s room I wanted to tell you about the woman’s strange actions, but you took one startled look at me and fled.”
“Thus confirming the allegation that I was a highwayman,” Hammond laughed.
“I did not know what to think,” asserted Miss Stone. “After Mr. Gildersleeve left the train I saw you come out of the smoker and walk out to the platform. I summoned all my courage and followed as far as the platform door. It was some time before I succeeded in catching your eye. Then when I did I lost my nerve and ran away without warning you.”
“And you would have warned me—even when there was a possibility that I was a real desperado?”
Her eyes dropped before his ardent ones. “Sometimes,” she replied deliberately, “one’s sympathies will go out to—a desperado.”
For the moment Hammond almost wished himself a highwayman, but whatever his reply might have been it was stilled on his lips.
From out of the heart of the hills came a melodious, gong-like alarum, softly reverberating like the tone when exquisite cut-glass is struck.