You branded me before that grinning crowd, you struck me!  And the fires of hell—­my hell—­burst in my heart.  I ran out of there—­mad to kill your soul—­to cause you everlasting torment.  I swore I would give that key of Allie Lee’s room to the first man who entered my house.

The first man was Larry Red King.  He was drunk.  He looked wild.  I welcomed him.  I sent him to her room.

But Larry King was your friend.  I had forgotten that.  He came out with her.  He was sober and terrible.  Like the mad woman that I was I rushed at him to tear her away.  He shot me.  I see his eyes now.  But oh, thank God, he shot me!  It was a deliverance.

I fell on the stairs, but I saw that flaming-faced devil kill four of Durade’s men.  He got Allie Lee out.  Later I heard he had been killed and that Durade had caught the girl.

Neale, hurry to find her.  Kill that Spaniard.  No man could tell why he has spared her, but I tell you he will not spare her long.

Don’t ever forget Hough or Ancliffe or that terrible cowboy.  Ancliffe’s death was beautiful.  I am cold.  It’s hard to write.  All is darkening.  I hear the moan of wind.  Forgive me!  Neale, the difference between me and Allie Lee—­is a good man’s love.  Men are blind to woman’s agony.  She laid her cheek here—­on my breast.  I—­ who always wanted a child.  I shall die alone.  No—­I think God is here.  There is some one!  After all, I was a woman.  Neale forgive—­

31

“Wor I there?” echoed McDermott, as he wiped the clammy sweat from his face.  “B’gosh, I wor!”

It was half-past five.  There appeared to be an unusual number of men on the street, not so hurried and business-like and merry as generally, and given to collecting in groups, low-voiced and excited.

General Lodge drew McDermott inside.  “Come.  You need a bracer.  Man, you look sick,” he said.

At the bar McDermott’s brown and knotty hand shook as he lifted a glass and gulped a drink of whisky.

“Gineral, I ain’t the mon I wuz,” complained McDermott.  “Casey’s gone!  An’ we had hell wid the Injuns gittin’ here.  An’ thin jest afther I stepped off the train—­it happened.”

“What happened?  I’ve heard conflicting reports.  My men are out trying to get news.  Tell me, Sandy,” replied the general, eagerly.

“Afther hearin’ of Casey’s finish I was shure needin’ stimulants,” began the Irishman.  “An’ prisintly I drhopped into that Durade’s Palace.  I had my drink, an’ thin went into the big room where the moosic wuz.  It shure wuz a palace.  A lot of thim swells with frock-coats wuz there.  B’gorra they ain’t above buckin’ the tiger.  Some of thim I knew.  That Misther Lee, wot wuz once a commissioner of the U. P., he wor there with a party of friends.

“An’ I happened to be close by thim whin a gurl come out.  She was shure purty.  But thot sad!  Her eyes wor turrible hauntin’, an’ roight off I wanted to start a foight.  She wor lookin’ fer Durade, as I seen afterwards.