“Don’t know why you was to be f-f-fetched to Mr. Wigglesworth?”
“No.”
“What did Mr. Wigglesworth say when you came?”
“Nothin’. Pekoe he left me outside and went to the house. He was gone half an hour and came back and said I was to go in. Pekoe went on out of the gate and I went in. Jethro met me and fixed up a room for me. I didn’t see Mr. Wigglesworth for a couple of days. He never came out of his room. Guess he was perty sick then. One night when he thought I was asleep he came into my room with a light turned down, and looked at me. I pretended I was asleep, but I managed to get a look at him just the same. He didn’t say a word, but just looked funny—queer. He shook his head and then nodded as much as to say that something was so. After that he went out. I never saw him again.”
“What did you do with the p-p-puzzle he wrote for you the night before he d-died?”
Rock looked sort of surprised that Mark knew about it, but didn’t ask any questions. “I got it in my pocket,” says he. “It don’t mean anythin’. I guess he must have been out of his head.”
“Maybe,” says Mark. “Can’t tell. Mind lettin’ me see it?”
Rock pulled it out and handed it over.
“Huh!” says he. “This d-d-don’t make much sense.”
“I can’t see it makes any,” says Rock.