"You came down upon me so sudden and solemn with your statistics and all that, last night," said Carnes, the following morning, "that I entirely forgot to treat you to a beautiful little Trafton vagary I was saving for your benefit. They do say that the new doctor is suspected of being a detective!"
"What!" I said, in sincere amazement; "Carnes, that's one of Jim Long's notions."
"Yis, but it isn't," retorted Carnes. "I haven't seen Jim Long this day. D'ye mind the chap ye seen me in company with last evening early?"
"The loutish chap with red hair and a scarred cheek?"
"That's him; well, his name is Tom Briggs, and he's a very close-mouthed fellow when he's sober; to-day he was drunk, and he told me in confidence that some folks looked upon Dr. Bethel as nothing more nor less than a detective, on the lookout for a big haul and a big reward."
"What is this Briggs?"
"He's a sort of a roust-about for 'Squire Brookhouse, but the 'squire don't appear to work him very hard."
"Carnes," I said, after a moment of silence between us, "hadn't you better cultivate Briggs?"
"Like enough I had," he replied, nonchalantly. Then turning slowly until he faced me squarely "If I were you, I would give a little attention to Dr. Bethel."