THE WOMAN WITH THE REVOLVER.

Let us go back a step in our story of crime and its detection, and keep track of another character—Belle Demona.

We saw her at last on her way toward Perth, well mounted and eager.

She was leaving Merle behind, and she knew it.

Somewhere in the house almost tenantless, thanks to Stareyes' avenging hand, he was facing Riggs, the guard, now known to both as the trailer from beyond the sea; but, for all this, she was deserting him, leaving him to fight his battles alone.

Belle Demona put the endurance of the horse to its utmost, and, as she careered over the barren, she glanced up now and then as if to mark the flight of time by the stars.

Nothing occurred to give her ride an eventful turn.

Day broke over her and lit up the way, and in due course of time she pulled into Perth, her black steed foamy at the bit and streaked with white at the flanks.

She looked romantically picturesque as she galloped down the main street of the provincial capital, looking on both sides and singling out certain people here and there.

Almost at the end of the street she drew rein and dismounted.

"He said the traitor was here," she muttered. "If so I'll face him and show him that I brook no disobedience."

She walked to the door of a small two-story house and knocked.

Her heated horse stood in the middle of the street.

The door was opened at last by an old woman who looked at Belle Demona, and then let her in.

As she crossed the threshold she clutched the old woman's arm and almost hissed:

"Where is he?"

There was a start and a recoil, for the speaker's eyes were dangerous in their light and quite enough to frighten one.

"You know me, Meg?" Belle Demona went on. "I came over on business. Jem is here?"

There was a hasty glance toward the ceiling, and the other said:

"Yes, I see. Is he asleep?"

"Yes, he came in but half an hour ago."

"Sober?"

"Reasonably so," was the answer, and then Belle Demona moved toward the door.

"How's Round Robin?" queried the old woman.

"Gone, but my vengeance remains!"

"Your vengeance?"

"Yes."

Before the older one could reply there were hasty footsteps on the stairs in the dingy hall and the figure of Belle Demona vanished.

Overhead a little door met her roving vision and she pushed it open.

Stretched on a sofa with his clothes on lay Jem, the Sydneyite, the man whom she had sent to Melbourne to discover the truth about Old Danny's trap.

He did not hear her.

For a moment Belle Demona, pistol in hand, looked at the sleeper, and a smile of vengeance came to her finely-chiseled lips.

After a while she went over to the sofa and let her gloved hand fall upon his shoulder.

It took a little shaking to open Jem's eyes, and the first look did not reveal the truth.

But when he looked again and saw the tensely-drawn face, and perhaps the cocked six-shooter in the woman's hand, he sat bolt upright and lost color.

She had unmasked him.

Belle Demona had come to prove that he had deceived her, that he had never gone to Melbourne, and perhaps she knew that his time had been passed in the gilded gambling hells and dance halls of Perth.

"I am here, traitor!" sternly spoke Belle Demona.

Jem shook off the last semblance of sleep and got up.

"You have played me false. You let another make you his slave. You have rested here in Perth."

What could he say?

There were marks of dissipation on his face, and he wondered if Riggs had gone back to the ranch and betrayed him.

"Stand over there against the wall!" commanded the queen of the ranch.

Jem hesitated.

"I'll kill you if you don't!"

He moved away and she continued:

"Merle told you to stop in Perth?" She looked at him as she spoke. "He gave you money—my money—with which to fight the tiger here."

Jem was ready for any confession now, for he saw the determined mien of his mistress, and knew that she came from Ranch Robin merciless and cool.

"Like a fool I listened to Merle," he said.

"Like a fool? Rather like a traitor!" cried the woman. "You must have met the man called Riggs?"

"He threw himself across my path."

"Why didn't you kill him?"

"I didn't suspect that he was the detective."

"Fool! you might have known that he would not seek you if not for a terrible purpose."

"Let me meet him again."

"That is never to take place."

The last words seemed to come through clinched teeth, and the hand of Belle Demona got a tighter grip on the revolver.

"My death would do you no good, woman," he said, seeing her determination as expressed in deep-set and glowing eyes.

"It would put a traitor out of the way. It would stop treason among those I have trusted. I will have no traitors in my way."

Jem, the Sydneyite, seemed to measure the distance between him and the woman, but a few steps away, and he knew that she would carry out the purposes of her heart to the letter.

"I have come to kill you!" deliberately spoke Belle Demona.

He did not plead for time or mercy.

Once more he looked across the space and tried to detect a quivering of her muscles, but failed.

Belle Demona fell back a step, and the deadly weapon looked Jem fairly in the face.

"When I pass from this room to fight to the bitter end the battle of life against the minions of the law, you will not be a witness against me," she said. "Your time is up, Jem!"

The finger against the trigger moved a little.

A jet of fire leaped into the man's face, and he reeled against the walls, throwing up his hands with a cry.

She appeared riveted to the floor while she watched the sinking body that finally reached the carpet with a white face turned toward hers.

Jem, the Sydneyite, did not move after striking the floor, and Belle Demona remained in her tracks a full minute.

Presently, with a last look at her victim, she moved toward the door, which she locked behind her.

With steady step she descended the stairs and looked in upon Meg in the lower room.

The face of the old woman was as white as that of the dead overhead and she greeted Belle Demona with a look which told that she knew all.

"Don't open the room for an hour," said the queen of Ranch Robin.

"Not for a day if you give the command."

"Well, say not for three hours. Jem, your lodger, was a traitor, Meg——"

"Death to all such, I say!" cried the old woman, and the woman with the revolver threw a lot of bills upon the clothless table.

Half a minute later Belle Demona stood once more in the street of Perth.

Her horse had waited for her and she mounted with the grace of a finished rider.

She cast a glance up the street as she did so and then moved away.

Suddenly at the second glance she changed color a trifle.

Three horsemen were just entering Perth in the early light of morning.

The figures, blended for some time, opened as they came on, and the face of the queen of the ranch became a study while she watched them.

Did she guess who they were?

Belle Demona turned aside at the first corner and rode into another thoroughfare.

"I'll wait and see," she said.

Riding down a narrow alley, still dark, she reined in her steed and turned his face toward the street.

There, with the revolver in her hand, she sat upright in the silken saddle and watched the mouth of the alley.

Not a muscle moved.

Like a hunted creature, this magnificent woman, beautiful despite her wild and reckless life, awaited the appearance of the three men.

Presently she caught the sound of hoofs and leaned forward.

"They will soon be here, and then——"

She did not complete the sentence, but broke it of her own accord and held her breath.

Nearer and nearer came the steeds as yet unseen, and the gloved finger of Belle Demona rested against the shining trigger of the six-shooter.

"He will never take him across the sea!" she hissed. "Here ends the trail of the Yankee spotter, and here finishes as well the story of Belle Demona's hate."

The next moment the horsemen came opposite the mouth of the alley, and the fair foe in ambush pressed the trigger, and a loud report rang out on the crisp air.