Some more demonstrations in pantomime from Carnes, and silence fell upon us. I knew from the way Long smoked at his pipe and glowered at Carnes that nothing more in the way of information need be expected from him. He had said enough, or too much, or something he had not intended to say; he looked dissatisfied, and soon we separated, Long repairing to his farm, and Carnes and I to our hotel, all in search of dinner.
"We won't have much trouble in finding the 'Average Traftonite,' old man," I said, as we sauntered back to town.
No answer; Carnes was smoking a huge black pipe and gazing thoughtfully on the ground.
"I wonder if any attempt has been made to rob Miss Manvers of those treasure-ship jewels," I ventured next.
"Umph!"
"Or of her blooded horses. Carnes, what's your opinion of Long?"
Carnes took his pipe from his mouth and turned upon me two serious eyes. When I saw the expression in them I knew he was ready to talk business.
"Honor bright?" he queried, without a trace of his Irish accent.
"Honor bright."
"Well," restoring his pipe and puffing out a black cloud, "he's an odd fish!"