For a long time he could hear only muffled undertones which, while they told him that there were two or more persons in the room, gave him no clue to their identity. And then, as he moved closer to the door, he caught a laugh, low, but clear and musical.
It was Betty's! He had heard it often when she had been talking to Dade; she had never laughed in that voice when talking to him!
He halted in his approach toward the door, watching the light under it, listening intently, afflicted with indecision. At first he felt only a natural curiosity over the situation, but as he continued to stand there he began to feel a growing desire to know who Betty was talking to. To be sure, Betty had a right to talk to whom she pleased, but this talk behind a barred door had an appearance of secrecy. And since he knew of no occasion for secrecy, the thing took on an element of mystery which irritated him. He smiled grimly in the darkness, and with infinite care sat down on the floor and removed his boots. Then he stole noiselessly over to the door and placed an ear against it.
Almost instantly he heard a man's voice. He did not recognize it, but the words were sufficiently clear and distinct. There was amusement in them.
"So you're stringin' him along all right, then?" said the voice. "I've got to hand it to you—you're some clever."
"I am merely following instructions." This in Betty's voice.
The man chuckled. "He's a hard case. I expected he'd have you all fired out by this time."
Betty laughed. "He is improving right along," she said. "He brought Bob another dog to replace Lonesome. I felt sorry for him that night."
"Well," said the man, "I'm glad he's learnin'. I reckon he's some impatient to find out where the idol is?"
"Rather," said Betty. "And he wanted the money right away."