With a sudden impulse, Roy strode past his companion, saying: “Come on into the stable and I’ll tell you.”
“We can talk just as well out here,” said Sage hastily. “Let’s not go in there.”
“But I want to go in there,” persisted Hooker, keeping on, although his friend had grasped his arm.
The sliding doors were now nearly closed, but Hooker thrust one of them back sufficiently to enter, and Fred, ceasing to object, followed into the building.
At a glance Roy perceived a large damp spot upon the floor, where upon his previous visit there had been a pool of blood. Every trace of the blood stains was gone. Turning quickly to Sage, Hooker saw that he was being watched narrowly, but instantly Fred’s eyelids drooped.
“Sleuth was right in his suspicions, after all,” thought the visitor, with sinking heart. “If there wasn’t something wrong, they’d never removed those stains and kept still about it.”
“Tell me,” urged Fred, “how you happened to find this wounded robber. How did you trace him?”
“I didn’t say we traced him.”
“No, but I supposed—that is, I imagined you must have been led in some way to search for him over by Turkey Hill.”
“He’s in it—in it up to the neck,” thought Roy, almost bitterly. “It’s a shame! He seemed like such a fine fellow!”