“We wish to see Mr. Garrison,” said one, while he looked about to see if that individual was in sight.
“Sorry, sir; but he’s out,” said the clerk.
“When will he be back?” put in the second man.
“I can’t say.”
The two men exchanged glances, and one uttered a low whistle.
“Reckon we’re too late,” muttered the latter of the pair.
“It looks like it, Mason,” was the answer.
“What’s to do next?”
“Find him—if we can—and do it right away.”
“But it’s like looking for a pin in a haystack.”