He knew the letter to David from beginning to end, but he got it out and
read it again. Who was this Bassett, and what mischief was he up to? Why
should he himself be got out of town quickly and the warning burned? Who
was "G"? And why wouldn't the simplest thing be to locate this Bassett
himself?
The more he considered that the more obvious it seemed as a solution,
provided of course he could locate the man. Whether Bassett were
friendly or inimical, he was convinced that he knew or was finding out
something concerning himself which David was keeping from him.
He was relieved when he went down to the desk to find that his man was
registered there, although the clerk reported him out of town. But the
very fact that only a few hours or days separated him from a solution of
the mystery heartened him.
He ate his dinner alone, unnoticed, and after dinner, in the writing
room, with its mission furniture and its traveling men copying orders,
he wrote a letter to Elizabeth. Into it he put some of the things that
lay too deep for speech when he was with her, and because he had so much
to say and therefore wrote extremely fast, a considerable portion of
it was practically illegible. Then, as though he could hurry the trains
East, he put a special delivery stamp on it.
With that off his mind, and the need of exercise after the trip
insistent, he took his hat and wandered out into the town. The main
street was crowded; moving picture theaters were summoning their evening
audiences with bright lights and colored posters, and automobiles lined
the curb. But here and there an Indian with braids and a Stetson hat, or
a cowpuncher from a ranch in boots and spurs reminded him that after all
this was the West, the horse and cattle country. It was still twilight,
and when he had left the main street behind him he began to have a
sense of the familiar. Surely he had stood here before, had seen the
court-house on its low hill, the row of frame houses in small gardens
just across the street. It seemed infinitely long ago, but very real.
He even remembered dimly an open place at the other side of the building
where the ranchmen tied their horses. To test himself he walked around.
Yes, it was there, but no horses stood there now, heads drooping, bridle
reins thrown loosely over the rail. Only a muddy automobile, without
lights, and a dog on guard beside it.