“Not exactly,” answered Dick evasively.
“Queer character,” commented Meade.
“He’s dead,” said Sandy.
“Dead!” The free-trader straightened in his chair, removed the pipe from his mouth and stared. “What happened to him?”
“Took his own life.”
Meade received this information with a slight raising of his eyebrows.
“Queer! That road-house will soon have an evil name. First Dewberry and now Frischette.”
For a time conversation languished. Everyone seemed to be occupied with his own thoughts.
“I was interested in the Dewberry case,” Meade finally broke the silence. “You see, I knew him; knew him better probably than most folks. Sort of unusual fellow, Dewberry was. One of the quietest, queerest men I have ever met.”
Dick locked across at Meade sharply.