Whoever this man was, whatever he might have been to her once, or was to her now, Joanne did not want to find him alive! He laughed softly to himself as he quickened his pace.

The tense grip of his fingers loosened.

The grim, almost ghastly part of it did not occur to him--the fact that deep in his soul he was wishing a man dead and in his grave.
He did not return at once to the scenes about Quade's place, but went to the station, three quarters of a mile farther up the track.

Here, in a casual way, he learned from the little pink-faced Cockney Englishman who watched the office at night that Stevens had been correct in his information.

Quade had gone to Tete Jaune.