"I was mad all right," Bob agreed. "My flour and tea's gone, and I can't hire up about the settlements, but if I'd a hundred dollars, I'd try to make the coast." He looked hard at Stannard and resumed: "Are you going to help me get off?"
"Certainly not," said Stannard in a careless voice. "I am not as rich as you think, and to give you money would be rash, particularly when Miss Jardine is about."
Margaret pulled out her wallet. "I can give you ten dollars, Bob; but I can shout to the people at the hotel. You know Mr. Leyland did not shoot Douglas."
"I sure don't know," said Bob and gave Margaret a haughty glance. "Put up your wad; I've no use for your money. If you like, shout for them to 'phone the police."
For a moment or two Margaret hesitated. She was persuaded Bob himself was not accountable, but she thought this was all she would know. She was hurt and humiliated, for now she had found Bob she had not helped Jimmy much.
"Shall I shout?" she asked Stannard.
"To choose is your part. I rather think Dillon is on the terrace and two or three athletic young sportsmen are at the hotel, but unless you are willing to use your gun, I doubt if Bob would wait until the others arrive. Then, although I don't know where Jimmy is, perhaps for the police to search the neighborhood would have some drawbacks."
Margaret turned to Bob. "Get off! If you come back, I'll send the troopers after you."
Bob went, and when he vanished in the gloom Stannard laughed. "I expect your arrival disturbed the fellow. At the beginning, he tried to force me to give him my wallet; then he took another line and hinted that Leyland was the guilty man. Well, he has gone. Will you come back with me and talk to Laura?"
Margaret noted that he was not curious about her object for stopping at the hotel, but she said, "I wanted to see you. What do you know about the accident?"