Then I said:
"Who, looking at that pile, would ever dream that there was anything mysterious and terrible about it, anything scientific?"
"The place," Milton Rhodes returned, "certainly has an innocent look; but looks, you know, are often deceiving. And how deceiving in this particular instance, that we know full well indeed. Besides Scranton, yourself and me, not a living soul knows how horrible was the death of that poor girl."
I made no response. Many were the thoughts that came and went as I stood there and looked at those Tamahnowis Rocks.
Of a sudden I noticed a slight smile in the eyes of my companion.
"Why the grin?" I queried. "This, I must say, is a sweet time for grins. I would suggest that, instead, you say your prayers."
Rhodes laughed. Then he pointed to my right hand. This, I now discovered, was resting on that pocket which held my revolver.
"I see," he said, "that you have your artillery very handy."
"Yes; and I notice that you have, too."
"I wish that I could have it even more so, Bill.