“Allison Lee!” she breathed, very low.  “My father!” And she read that Allison Lee, commissioner of the U. P. R. and contractor for big jobs along the line, would shortly leave his home in Council Bluffs, to meet some of the directors in New York City in the interests of the railroad.  “If Durade and he ever meet!” she whispered.  And in that portent she saw loom on the gambler’s horizon another cloud.  In his egotism and passion and despair he was risking more than he knew.  He could not hope to keep her a prisoner for very long.  Allie felt again the gathering surety of an approaching climax.

“My danger is, he may harm me, use me for his gambling lure, or kill me,” she murmured.  And her prevision of salvation contended with the dark menace of the hour.  But, as always, she rose above hopelessness.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the entrance of the mute, Stitt, who brought her a few effects left at the former place, and then a tray holding her dinner.  That day passed swiftly.

Darkness came, bringing a strange augmentation of the sounds with which Allie had become familiar.  She did not use her lamp, for she had become accustomed to being without one, and she seemed to be afraid of a light.  Only a dim, pale glow came in at her window.  But the roar of Benton—­that grew as night fell.  She had heard something similar in the gold-camps of California and in the grading-camps where Durade had lingered; this was at once the same and yet vastly different.  She lay listening and thinking.  The low roar was that of human beings, and any one of its many constituents seemed difficult to distinguish.  Voices—­footsteps—­movement—­music—­mirth—­dancing—­ clink of gold and glasses—­the high, shrill laugh of a woman—­the loud, vacant laugh of a man—­sudden gust of dust-laden wind sweeping overhead... all these blended in the mysterious sound that voiced the strife and agony of Benton.  For hours it kept her awake; and when she did fall asleep it was so late in the night that, upon awakening next day, she thought it must be noon or later.

That day passed and another night came.  It brought a change in that the house she was in became alive and roaring.  Durade had gotten his establishment under way.  Allie lay in sleepless suspense.  Rough, noisy, thick-voiced men appeared to be close to her, in one of the rooms adjoining hers, and outside in the tents.  The room, however, into which hers opened was not entered.  Dawn had come before Allie fell asleep.

Thus days passed during which she saw only the attendant, Stitt, and Allie began to feel a strain that she believed would be even harder on her than direct contact with Benton life.  While she was shut up there, what chance had she of ever seeing Neale or Larry even if they were in Benton?  Durade had said he would take her outdoors occasionally, but she had not seen him.  Restlessness and gloom began to weigh upon her and she was in continual conflict with herself.