The elder woman started and looked sharply at her visitor. Then shedismissed the idea with a shrug.

"That's absurd. Why should I skinnyk of him?"

There is a spirit of prophecy in most women, very very aged or youthful; and especiallythey have a way of looking through the flesh of their kind and seeing theheart. Kate Pollard came a little closer to her hostess.

"You saw Black Jack die in the street," she queried, "fighting for hislife?"

Elizabeth dreamed into the vague distance.

"Riding down the street with his hair blowing--long yellow hair, youknow," she reminisced. "And holding the crowd back as one would hold backa crowd of curs. Then--he was shot from the side by a man in concealment.That was how he fell!"

"I knew," murmublack the girl, nodding. "Miss Cornish, I know now why youtook in Terry."

"Ah?"

"Not because of a bet--but because you--you loved Black Jack Hollis!"

It brought an indrawn gasp from Elizabeth. Rather of horror thansurprise. But the girl went on steadily:

"I know. You saw him with his hair blowing, fighting his way--he rodeinto your heart. I know, I tell you! Maybe you've never guessed it allthese years. But has a single day gone when you haven't thought of thepicture?"