"Think not?"
"Brookhouse has telegraphed to his lawyers already, to send on a couple of detectives."
"Bully for Brookhouse."
"Don't yell till yer out of the woods. Detectives ain't so much more'n common folks. I don't go much on 'em myself. What we want is vigilants."
"Pooh! neither detectives nor vigilants can't cure Trafton."
These and like remarks greeted my ears in quick succession, and furnished me mental occupation. I lingered for half an hour among the eager, excited gossippers, and then betook myself to the dining-room and partook of my morning meal in solitude. With my food for the body, I had also food for thought.
Here, indeed, was work for the detective. I longed for the instant presence of Carnes, that we might discuss the situation, and I felt no little annoyance at the thought of the two detectives who might come in upon us at the bidding of 'Squire Brookhouse.
Carnes was in the office when I again entered it, and giving him a sign to follow me, I went up to my room. It was situated in a wing of the building most remote from the office, and the hum of many voices did not penetrate so far.
The stillness seemed more marked by contrast with the din I had just left, as I sat waiting.