Still, next morning both he and Gray were startled when the hotel-keeper came to them agitatedly.
“There was three strangers on the train yesterday, wa’n’t there?” he asked in a high-pitched voice that trembled with excitement.
“Yes,” said Cunningham. “Why?”
“D’ye know the other man?” asked the hotelkeeper excitedly. “Know who he was or anything?”
“No, not at all,” Cunningham answered alertly, while Gray listened.
“Would ye recognize him if ye saw him?” quavered the hotel-keeper.
“Of course,” said Cunningham. “Why? What’s the matter?”
Gray had struck a match to light a cigar, but it burned his fingers as he listened.
“He rented a horse an’ buggy last night,” quavered the native. “He drove off to Coulters way, he said. An’ this mornin’ the horse came back with him in the buggy, but he was dead.”
“Dead!” Cunningham jumped and found himself growing a trifle pale.