“Denver? That’s where poor Billy West died. He was a ninety-five man. You knew him, didn’t you?”
“Slightly. Great friend of yours, wasn’t he?”
“Yes, I thought everything of him. His death was a terrible shock.”
“So sudden, too. He was ill only a few days. Appendicitis, they told me.”
“Yes. He died right after the operation.”
“I was in Denver at the time; but I didn’t think to look him up. Didn’t even know he was sick until I got your telegram.”
“My telegram?” Donald looked at his guest in sudden surprise.
“Well, perhaps not yours, exactly. Miss Pope wired me that he was sick, and asked me to find out how he was. I supposed it was on your account.”
“Miss Pope?”
“Yes. Your sister-in-law.”