“You're sure it was Livingstone?”
“The man there had a tree fall on him. He operated. I guess that's the answer.”
He considered the situation.
“It's the answer to more than that,” Reynolds said slowly. “It shows he had come back to himself. If he hadn't he couldn't have done it.”
“And after that?” some one asked.
“I lost him. He left to hike to the railroad, and he said nothing of his plans. If I'd been able to make open inquiries I might have turned up something, but I couldn't. It's a hard proposition. I had trouble finding Hattie Thorwald, too. She'd left the hotel, and is living with her son. She swears she doesn't know where Clifton Hines is, and hasn't seen him for years.”
Bassett had been listening intently, his head dropped forward.
“I suppose the son doesn't know about Hines?”
“No. She warned me. He was surly and suspicious. The sheriff had sent for him and questioned him about how you got his horse, and I gathered that he thought I was a detective. When I told him I was a friend of yours, he sent you a message. You may be able to make something out of it. I can't. He said: `You can tell him I didn't say anything about the other time.'”
Bassett sat forward.