But the two men who formed her guard were not of sufficient mental keenness to read the silent signs.
So, in silence, save for Provine’s occasional jesting observations, they climbed the breast of the great ridge and presently struck into the well-worn trail which led direct to Sky Line.
The sun was well over toward the west and the towering rock-face was resplendent in its magic tints when they rode out of the clump of pines and saw the ranch house sitting low and spreading above its high veranda, in the open.
At the broad steps to the right Nance was ordered to dismount.
Provine took Buckskin and Caldwell motioned her to ascend the steps. With her head up and her mouth tight shut Nance Allison strode forward into the stronghold of her enemies.
The door was open, and she saw first only a pale darkness within as she stopped on the threshold.
Then, pushed forward by the foreman with a none too gentle hand, her eyes slowly became accustomed to the shadowy interior and in spite of herself they widened with amazement at the splendor she beheld.
Sky Line was famed for its luxury, but most of this fame was hearsay. Nance knew instantly that it was pitifully inadequate.
The broad windows were shaded with tasseled satin drapes.
On the walls hung great paintings, deep and glowing with priceless art. Huge chairs, their rounded arms and rolling backs covered with velvet in pale shades of violet and orchid, sank their feet into the pile of moss green carpet, while here and there gleamed the cool whiteness of marble. This was the Inner Room. Beyond it opened that plainer one wherein Kate Cathrew did her every-day routine of work at the dark wood desk.