"Don't let go of him," he shouted to the men who were holding Martin. "There's hell to pay in there. Where is Mrs. Gwyn?"
"I never done it!" wailed Martin, livid with terror. "I swear to God—"
"Shut up!"
"She's over there, Sam,—with Ike Stain."
Ignoring the question that followed him, the man called Sam hurried up to the couple at the edge of the bush.
"Better clear out, Mrs. Gwyn," he said soberly. "I mean, don't stay around. Something in there you oughtn't to see."
"What is it?" she inquired sharply.
"Well, you see,—there's a dead man in there,—knifed. Blood all over everything and—"
"The man called Suggs?"
"I reckon so. Leastwise it must be him. 'Pears to be a stranger to all of us. Deader'n a door nail. He's—"