Billings tendered the remaining two articles to the scout, and he dropped them into his pocket.
“Drive on to the post-office and the hotel, Billings,” went on the scout. “Wild Bill and Nomad are at the hotel—tell them just what you have told me, and say that I want them to get our horses ready for the trail. It’s the war-path for us, and muy pronto. First, though, I must have a talk with Gentleman Jim. This note may contain clues of some value. De Bray,” he added, to the Denver man, “you’re playing in hard luck——”
“That wasn’t all of my pile, though,” cut in De Bray; “remember, I’m still in on the deal as soon as I can get more dinero from home.”
“We’ll talk of that later. Go on to the hotel and introduce yourself to my pards there. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
The stage trundled on. De Bray walking beside it, and the scout hurried into the Alcazar, through the big, deserted gambling-hall to the door of Gentleman Jim’s private room.
The door was open. Through it he could see the gambler, seated at his desk. His head was bowed in his arms, and the locket lay open in front of him.
It was hardly a time to intrude on a man, unnerved by grief as the gambler was at that moment, but other matters connected with Lawless were pressing.
The scout entered the room and passed to the gambler’s side.
“Jim!”
The gambler locked up with a start.