One more look, followed by a heavy frown and a low growling sound in his throat—which may have been his way of saying good-bye—and he was gone.
Sweetwater came forward and shut the door; then the three men drew more closely together, and the district attorney remarked:
“He is better at the house. I hadn’t the heart on your account, Dr. Perry, to hurry matters faster than necessity compels. What a lout he is! Pardon me, but what a lout he is to have had two such uncommon and attractive sisters.”
“And such a father,” interposed the coroner.
“Just so—and such a father. Sweetwater? Hey! what’s the matter? You don’t look satisfied. Didn’t I cover the ground?”
“Fully, sir, so far as I see now, but—”
“Well, well—out with it.”
“I don’t know what to out with. It’s all right but—I guess I’m a fool, or tired, or something. Can I do anything more for you? If not, I should like to hunt up a bunk. A night’s sleep will make a man of me again.”
“Go then; that is, if Dr. Perry has no orders for you.”
“None. I want my sleep, too.” But Dr. Perry had not the aspect of one who expects to get it.