mustangs, which it presently joined. Then, keeping well in the shadow of
a belt of shrub-oaks, he skirted the long lesser terraces of the casa,
intending to approach the house by way of the old garden and corral.
A drizzling rain, occasionally driven by the wind into long, misty,
curtain-like waves, obscured the prospect and favored his design. He
reached the low adobe wall of the corral in safety; looking over he
could detect, in spite of the darkness, that a number of the horses
were of alien brands, and even recognized one or two from the Santa Inez
district. The vague outline of buggies and carryalls filled the long
shed beside the stables. There WAS company at the casa--so far Susy was
right!

Nevertheless, lingering still by the wall of the old garden for the
deepening of night, his nervous feverishness was again invaded and
benumbed by sullen memories. There was the opening left by the old
grille in the wall, behind which Mrs. Peyton stood on the morning when
he thought he was leaving the ranch forever; where he had first clasped
her in his arms, and stayed. A turn of the head, a moment's indecision,
a single glance of a languorous eye, had brought this culmination. And
now he stood again before that ruined grille, his house and lands, even
his NAME, misused by a mad, scheming enthusiast, and himself a creeping
spy of his own dishonor! He turned with a bitter smile again to the
garden. A few dark red Castilian roses still leaned forward and swayed
in the wind with dripping leaves. It was here that the first morning of
his arrival he had kissed Susy; the perfume and color of her pink skin
came back to him with a sudden shock as he stood there; he caught at a
flower, drew it towards him, inhaled its odor in a long breath that left
him faint and leaning against the wall. Then again he smiled, but this
time more wickedly--in what he believed his cynicism had sprung up the
first instinct of revenge!