"Any word from the sheriff and his party?"
"Nope. The blamed fools are still up there turnin' over all the loose
stones they c'n find," said Jones sarcastically. "Did you get a
glimpse of Green Fancy?"
Barnes nodded. "I strolled a little distance into the woods," he said
briefly.
"I wouldn't do it again," said Jones. "Strangers ain't welcome. I
might have told you as much if I'd thought you were going up that way.
Mr. Curtis notified me a long while ago to warn my guests not to set
foot on his grounds, under penalty of the law."
"Well, I escaped without injury," laughed Barnes. "No one took a shot
at me."
As he entered the door he was acutely aware of an intense stare
levelled at him from behind by the landlord of Hart's Tavern. Half way
up the stairway he stopped short, and with difficulty repressed the
exclamation that rose to his lips.
He had recalled a significant incident of the night before. Almost
immediately after the departure of Roon and Paul from the Tavern,
Putnam Jones had made his way to the telephone behind the desk, and
had called for a number in a loud, brisk voice, but the subsequent
conversation was carried on in subdued tones, attended by haste and
occasional furtive glances in the direction of the tap-room.
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