I had intended, of course, upon first sight to blurt out my identity.
Yet I did not. He affected me strangely, or perhaps it was my emotion at
the thought that we Rangers, with so much in common and at stake, had
come together.

"Is Sampson at home?" he asked abruptly.

I said, "Yes."

"Ask him if he'll see Vaughn Steele, Ranger."

"Wait here," I replied. I did not want to take up any time then
explaining my presence there.

Deliberately and noisily I strode down the porch and entered the room
with the smoking men.

I went in farther than was necessary for me to state my errand. But I
wanted to see Sampson's face, to see into his eyes.

As I entered, the talking ceased. I saw no face except his and that
seemed blank.

"Vaughn Steele, Ranger--come to see you, sir." I announced.

Did Sampson start--did his eyes show a fleeting glint--did his face
almost imperceptibly blanch? I could not have sworn to either. But there
was a change, maybe from surprise.