“Come in!” called de Spain roughly. The bulk of a large man filled and obscured for an instant the opening, then the visitor stepped carefully over the threshold. “What do you want?” asked de Spain without changing his tone. He awaited with keenness the sound of the answer.
“Is Henry de Spain here?”
The voice was not familiar to de Spain’s ear. He told himself the man was unknown to him. “I am Henry de Spain,” he returned without hesitation. “What do you want?”
The visitor’s deliberation was reflected in his measured speaking. “I am from Thief River,” he began, and his reverberating voice was low and distinct. “I left there some time ago to do some work in Morgan’s Gap. I guess you know, full as well as I do, that the general office at Medicine Bend has its own investigators, aside from the division men. I was sent in to Morgan’s Gap some time ago to find out who burned the Calabasas barn.”
“Railroad man, eh?”
“For about six years.”
“And you report to–––?”
“Kennedy.”
De Spain paused in spite of his resolve to push the questions. While he listened a fresh conviction had flashed across his mind. “You called me up on the telephone one night last week,” he said suddenly.