Their way lay south across the Nevada line to Crucero on the San Pedro, Los Angeles and Salt Lake, thence to the City of the Angels. Immediate connections were not good and Stone announced his intention of going north to Tonopah to try and trace Lowe while the trail might be warm. And this decision he stuck to. He went alone, leaving Lefty and Healy to stay overnight in Rhyolite, joining them the next day on the train.
Lowe's trail was warm and malodorous. He had left Tonopah under strong suspicion of having falsified analyses of ore to suit certain wildcat promoters. There were no regrets expressed concerning his death. He had established an assay office two years before and there had been no evidence that he was encumbered with a wife or daughter, having lived alone at the same hotel the whole time. But Stone felt satisfied that he had done the right thing in making this effort.
At Rhyolite Lefty swung aboard the smoker. Stone meeting him on the platform.
"Healy's in the depot," said the Cockney. "'E didn't seem to want me nosin' round but I'm pritty certain he's waitin' for a telegram. Pritty sure he's sent more 'n one. I saw some blanks in his room. And I'll bet you the drinks 'e's wired to Los Hangeles."
"Looks like an easy win for you, Lefty," answered Stone, as Healy hurried down the platform, crushing a yellow paper into his pocket. "But I couldn't pay if I lost. California voted dry."
