"Can Selby shoot?" asked Burton, trying to draw the conversation around again to the subject of Selby's Indian schooling.
Ben lifted himself on his elbow and looked up into Burton's face with a grin of malicious amusement. "Not very well," he said, and opened his mouth in a silent laugh that struck Burton as somehow horrible. Was it possible that he connected the shot through Burton's window, which had been talked of merely as an accident, with Selby?
"What makes you laugh?" he asked abruptly.
But Ben would not talk. He turned his head away with a gesture of weariness that aroused Burton's conscience.
"I mustn't tire you now, but I'll see you again before I leave. I think I can help you to get a better market for your work. Is there anything you want now?"
"No. Only to be let alone," said Ben, without looking at him. He spoke so indifferently that it was impossible to charge him with intentional rudeness. The natural man was expressing himself naturally. Burton suppressed an apology as he took his leave.
The door of the surgery was open when he came down the stairs to the back hall, and Dr. Underwood, keen-eyed and eager, with a crutch under his arm, stood in the doorway.
"Well," he asked. "What have you discovered?"
Burton pushed him gently inside the room and shut the door.
"For one thing, I have discovered that it isn't safe to talk secrets in this house unless you know where Mrs. Bussey is," he laughed.