It was dim in the saloon, compared with the
brightness of the outdoors, and perhaps Blondy did not see Vic. At any rate
he took his place at the other end of the bar. Three pictures tangled in
the mind of Gregg like three bodies in a whirlpool--Betty, Blondy, Pete
Glass. That strange clearness of perception increased and the whole affair
lay plainly before him. Betty had sent Hansen, dressed manifestly for the
festival, to gloat over Vic in Lorrimer's place. He was at it already.
"All turned out for the dance, Blondy, eh? Takin' a girl?"
"Betty Neal," answered Blondy.
"The hell you are!" inquired Lorrimer, mildly astonished. "I thought--why,
Vic's back in town, don't you know that?"
"He ain't got a mortgage on what she does."
Then, guided by the side-glance of Lorrimer, Hansen saw Gregg, and he
stiffened. As for Vic, he perceived the last link in his chain of evidence.
Hansen was going to a dance, and yet he wore a gun, and there could be only
one meaning in that: Betty had sent him down there to wind up the affair.
"Didn't see you, Vic," Blondy was saying, his flushed face seeming doubly
red against the paleness of his hair.
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