CHAPTER VII
As the motor-stage drew up to the door, Millie ran out on the veranda to deliver a few commissions to the driver to execute when he got back to town. She noted that Sheriff Blodgett was a passenger, and that he jumped down and preceded the guests into the lobby.
The first of the new arrivals to step out of the stage and enter the hotel was a chic little woman of about twenty-four, with big brown eyes and auburn hair, dressed in a bright blue outing-flannel coat and skirt and a tiny red hat from which hung a heavy veil. It was obvious that she was suffering from great embarrassment, as she walked quickly about the lobby, going from one register to the other, while a maid followed her with an armful of bundles. The woman looked helplessly from wall to wall and desk to desk. The presence of Blodgett and Townsend seemed to add to her embarrassment, a condition still further aggravated by the appearance of a third man, Everett Hammond, who chanced to come strolling down from up-stairs at the moment. She fluttered up to Millie as the girl came in from the veranda.
"Would you like to register?" Millie asked.
"How do you do," was the reply, uttered in a timid treble. "I am Mrs. Harper. I understand—" Her head turned from side to side as she hesitated. She clasped her hands and gazed pleadingly at Millie. "I've been told—" Again she hesitated nervously, tears in her eyes. She noticed Blodgett and Hammond gazing at her. In desperation, her blushes showing under the heavy veil, she whispered, quaveringly, "Could I speak to you privately?"
"Certainly," said Millie, hiding her amusement. "Just step into this room," and she led the little woman away.
As they left the room, followed by the faithful maid, another guest entered, an attractive woman of thirty. She was highly colored as to hair and complexion, and she had about her an air far removed from the chic, haughty member of the millionaire divorce colony that centered about the Reno hotels. In type she was not unlike Mrs. Harper, except that she did not show any special evidence of timidity. On the contrary, she seemed perfectly at home. But she came in with the aid of a crutch and leaning on the arm of the stage-driver. Her eyes took a calm inventory of the lobby—including Townsend, on whom she smiled coquettishly as she sighed with relief and sank into a chair.
Townsend was leaning against the California desk, and he had been watching Blodgett and Hammond, who, conversing in low tones, had strolled out to the veranda. He was surprised to note that the pair had met before and seemed to know each other quite well. His attention, however, was now drawn to the attractive new guest. Her smile was not without effect. She turned to the driver.
"I'm all right now, thank you," she drawled, though her voice was soft and pleasant. "Just drop my bag here." Fumbling in her purse for change that did not seem to be there, she directed a glance toward Townsend and smiled again. "Will you change five dollars for me?" she asked.