“Oh, I beg your pardon,” said the good lady, “this is Mr. Warman, Miss Parsons.”
I don’t know for the life of me, whether I said “Howdy,” or “Good-by,” I was dazed. I had forgotten the while I looked into that beautiful face, that such a person lived as Polly Parsons, and when it came to me all at once like the firing of a blast, it took the wind out of my sails and left me helpless in mid-ocean.
“Where did you meet Miss Parsons?” I asked, when the young lady had left the room.
“At Alamosa, some two weeks ago, she stopped at our hotel, and I didn’t like the looks of the man she was with; so I asked her to sleep in a spare room just off from my own.
“I heard him trying to persuade her to go to Creede with him the next day, but could not understand what her argument was, except that she would not go to Creede until there was something for her to do.”
“Who was this man?” I asked.
“His name is Ketchum; he is connected with the Sure Thing Mining Company.”
“At last!” I said with a sigh that was really a relief to me.
After luncheon, I gave the letter you sent, to Miss Parsons, and I watched her face while she read it.