Pennington shook his head.
“I do not know the man,” said he. “But from what you have told me, it would seem that he has been making game of you.”
The head of Scarlett went up, and his hand sought the heavy hilt of his sword.
“There have been one or two, at odd times, who have sought to do that,” spoke he, and there was a ring in his voice that boded no good to any such. “And I’ll warrant you that they never attempted it again.”
“Have you inquired of the landlord as to these persons whom you seek?” asked Pennington.
“I have,” with a shrug. “But he is a surly, short-spoken dog. I can get nothing out of him.”
“It pains me to be unable to give you any intelligence of them,” said Pennington. “But I am a stranger here myself.”
As he spoke these words he turned his head, perhaps to look for the landlord. His eyes fell upon Ezra seated there so coolly, and a look of astonishment came into his face. But instantly he showed what a cautious man he was by lifting his hand to hide his face; then he coughed affectedly.
Almost simultaneously with this gesture, Ezra noticed Scarlett make a sharp movement. It was as though the adventurer was also about to turn. But apparently he thought better of it, and remained with his back stoically presented.
“He saw the change in Pennington’s face,” was Ezra’s instant thought.