Nick caught his eye.
“I can’t make it out,” Crawford said at last, the troubled expression deepening on his face. “I suppose you’ve noted that Stone and I hardly exchange a word.”
CHAPTER V.
ANOTHER MURDEROUS ATTACK.
“I must admit that I have noticed it,” Nick returned, “and it struck me as being rather curious, under the circumstances.”
“It beats me,” Crawford declared, glancing down at the bar, where the broad-shouldered figure of his old comrade was standing. “Jimmy and I have been chums for years. We’ve worked together and starved together, and five years ago he saved my life at the risk of his own. He dived into a flooded river, and it was touch and go whether he brought me out or not.”
The deep voice shook for a moment. “It’s beyond me,” he continued. “For the last few months he’s been a changed man. I can hardly get a word out of him, and many times I’ve caught him looking at me as though I were his bitterest enemy.”
There was no doubting the sincerity of Crawford’s emotions. His tanned face twitched, and his hard, work-worn hands were clasped in a tight grip as they rested on his knees.
“Something has gone wrong,” he concluded, “but what it is Heaven only knows. Would you believe me if I told you that he——”