“How?”
“Why, I don't know,” said Mother Borton. “I'm tellin' you what Henry Wilton told me.”
This was maddening. I began to suspect that she knew nothing after all.
“Do you know where he is?” I asked, taking the questioning into my own hands.
“No,”—sullenly.
“Who is protecting him?”
“I don't know.”
“Who is trying to get him?”
“It's that snake-eyed Tom Terrill that's leading the hunt, along with Darby Meeker; but they ain't doing it for themselves.”
“Is Doddridge Knapp behind them?”