“Drew it out of him, sir. He didn't know who he was confiding in. He'll wonder how the deuce his hiding place was suspected.”
Other passengers were referred to who have not been mentioned, and in each case the colonel was able to tell precisely where their money was kept.
“How about that milksop that wouldn't drink with us?” inquired the landlord, after a while.
“Melville? I couldn't find out where he keeps his cash. Probably he keeps it in his pocket. He doesn't look like a cautious man.”
“Who's the boy?”
“Only a clerk or secretary of Melville's. He hasn't any money, and isn't worth attention.”
“Very glad to hear it,” thought Herbert. “I don't care to receive any attention from such gentry. But who would have thought the colonel was in league with stage robbers? I thought him a gentleman.”
Herbert began to understand why it was that Col. Warner, if that was his real name, had drawn the conversation to stage robbers, and artfully managed to discover where each of the passengers kept his supply of money. It was clear that he was in league with the landlord of the Echo Gulch Hotel, who, it was altogether probable, intended to waylay the stage the next day.
This was a serious condition of affairs. The time had been when, in reading stories of adventure, Herbert had wished that he, too, might have some experience of the kind. Now that the opportunity had come, our hero was disposed to regard the matter with different eyes.
“What can be done,” he asked himself, anxiously, “to escape the danger which threatens us to-morrow?”