"I wonder what it means?" queried Hickory carelessly, knocking the ashes out of his pipe.
Mr. Byrd flashed a quick askance look at his colleague from under his half-fallen lids, but made no answer.
"It is not pride alone," resumed the rough-and-ready detective, half-musingly; "though he's as proud as the best of 'em. Neither is it any sort of make-believe, or I wouldn't be caught by it. 'Tis—'tis—what?" And Hickory rubbed his nose with his thoughtful forefinger, and looked inquiringly at Mr. Byrd.
"How should I know?" remarked the other, tossing his stump of a cigar into the fire. "Mr. Mansell is too deep a problem for me."
"And Miss Dare too?"
"And Miss Dare."
Silence followed this admission, which Hickory broke at last by observing:
"The day that sees her on the witness stand will be interesting, eh?"
"It is not far off," declared Mr. Byrd.
"No?"