Trent shrugged his shoulders.
“I would have done as much for any of my people,” he said, “and you don't owe me any thanks. To be frank with you, I hoped you'd die.”
“You could easily have made sure of it,” Francis answered.
“It wasn't my way,” Trent answered shortly. “Now what do you want with me?”
Francis turned towards him with a curious mixture of expressions in his face.
“Look here,” he said, “I want to believe in you! You saved my life and I'm not over-anxious to do you a mischief. But you must tell me what you have done with Vill—Monty.”
“Don't you know where he is?” Trent asked quickly.
“I? Certainly not! How should I?”
“Perhaps not,” Trent said, “but here's the truth. When I got back to Attra Monty had disappeared—ran away to England, and as yet I've heard never a word of him. I'd meant to do the square thing by him and bring him back myself. Instead of that he gave us all the slip, but unless he's a lot different to what he was last time I saw him, he's not fit to be about alone.”
“I heard that he had left,” Francis said, “from Mr. Walsh.”