The Killer | Page 5

their own men. I gave it up, and tried
unsuccessfully to shrug it off my mind, and sought distraction in
looking about me. There was not much to see. The one door and one
window opened into the court. The other side was blank except that

near the ceiling ran a curious, long, narrow opening closed by a
transom-like sash. I had never seen anything quite like it, but concluded
that it must be a sort of loop hole for musketry in the old days.
Probably they had some kind of scaffold to stand on.
I pulled off my shirt and took a good wash: shook the dust out of my
clothes as well as I could; removed my spurs and _chaps_; knotted my
silk handkerchief necktie fashion; slicked down my wet hair, and tried
to imagine myself decently turned out for company. I took off my gun
belt also; but after some hesitation thrust the revolver inside the
waistband of my drawers. Had no reason; simply the border instinct to
stick to one's weapon.
Then I sat down to wait. The friendly little noises of my own
movements left me. I give you my word, never before nor since have I
experienced such stillness. In vain I told myself that with adobe walls
two feet thick, a windless evening, and an hour after sunset, stillness
was to be expected. That did not satisfy. Silence is made up of a
thousand little noises so accustomed that they pass over the
consciousness. Somehow these little noises seemed to lack. I sat in an
aural vacuum. This analysis has come to me since. At that time I only
knew that most uneasily I missed something, and that my ears ached
from vain listening.
At the end of the half hour I returned to the parlour. Old Man Hooper
was there waiting. A hanging lamp had been lighted. Out of the
shadows cast from it a slender figure rose and came forward.
"My daughter, Mr.----" he paused.
"Sanborn," I supplied.
"My dear, Mr. Sanborn has most kindly dropped in to relieve the
tedium of our evening with his company--his distinguished company."
He pronounced the words suavely, without a trace of sarcastic emphasis,
yet somehow I felt my face flush. And all the time he was staring at me
blankly with his wide, unblinking, wildcat eyes.

The girl was very pale, with black hair and wide eyes under a fair, wide
brow. She was simply dressed in some sort of white stuff. I thought she
drooped a little. She did not look at me, nor speak to me; only bowed
slightly.
We went at once into a dining room at the end of the little dark hall. It
was lighted by a suspended lamp that threw the illumination straight
down on a table perfect in its appointments of napery, silver, and glass.
I felt very awkward and dusty in my cowboy rig; and rather too large.
The same Mexican served us, deftly. We had delightful food, well
cooked. I do not remember what it was. My attention was divided
between the old man and his daughter. He talked, urbanely, of a wide
range of topics, displaying a cosmopolitan taste, employing a choice of
words and phrases that was astonishing. The girl, who turned out to be
very pretty in a dark, pale, sad way, never raised her eyes from her
plate.
It was the cool of the evening, and a light breeze from the open window
swung the curtains. From the blackness outside a single frog began to
chirp. My host's flow of words eddied, ceased. He raised his head
uneasily; then, without apology, slipped from his chair and glided from
the room. The Mexican remained, standing bolt upright in the dimness.
For the first time the girl spoke. Her voice was low and sweet, but
either I or my aroused imagination detected a strained under quality.
"Ramon," she said in Spanish, "I am chilly. Close the window."
The servant turned his back to obey. With a movement rapid as a
snake's dart the girl's hand came from beneath the table, reached across,
and thrust into mine a small, folded paper. The next instant she was
back in her place, staring down as before in apparent apathy. So
amazed was I that I recovered barely soon enough to conceal the paper
before Ramon turned back from his errand.
The next five minutes were to me hours of strained and bewildered
waiting. I addressed one or two remarks to my companion, but received
always monosyllabic answers. Twice I caught the flash of lanterns

beyond the darkened window; and a subdued, confused murmur as
though several people were walking about stealthily. Except for this the
night had again fallen deathly still. Even the cheerful frog had hushed.
At the