"Entered the service together," said Breault. "But he's unlucky. For two or three years he has been on the trail of a man named McKay. Jolly Roger, they call him—Jolly Roger McKay. Ever hear of him?"
Jolly Roger nodded.
"Cassidy told me about him when he was at my cabin. From what I've heard I—rather like him."
"Who—Cassidy, or Jolly Roger?"
"Both."
For the first time the Ferret leveled his eyes at his companion. They were mystifying eyes, never appearing to open fully, but remaining half closed as if to conceal whatever thought might lie behind them. McKay felt their penetration. It was like a cold chill entering into him, warning him of a menace deadlier than the storm.
"Haven't any idea where one might come upon this Jolly Roger, have you?"
"No."
"You see, he thinks he killed a man down south. Well, he didn't. The man lived. If you happen to see him at any time give him that information, will you?"
Jolly Roger thrust his head and shoulders into the growing tunnel.