In an hour he returned, telling Carrington that his orders had been obeyed.
Danforth seated himself in a chair near one of the front windows and waited, for he knew Carrington still had something to say to him—the man’s eyes told him, for they were alight with a cold, speculative gleam as they rested on Danforth.
At last, after a silence that lasted long, Carrington said, shortly:
“What do you know about Taylor?”
“What I told you before—the first day. And that isn’t much.”
“I had a talk with Parsons the other day—about Larry Harlan,” said Carrington. “It seems that Larry Harlan worked for Taylor—for two or three years. I didn’t question Parsons closely about the connection between Taylor and Harlan, but it seems to me that Parsons mentioned a mine. What about it? Do you know anything about it?”
Danforth related what he knew regarding the incident of the mine—the story told by Taylor when he returned after Larry Harlan’s death—and Carrington’s eyes gleamed with interest.
“Do you think he told a straight story?” he asked.
“Hell, yes!” declared the other. “He’s too square to lie!”