Hervey and Prudence moved away and passed down the trail. Neche reluctantly left his bone––having satisfied himself in a comprehensive survey 247 that no canine interloper was about who could steal his treasure during his absence––and followed them. He walked beside the girl without any sign of pleasure. He was a dog that seemed to find no joy in his master’s or mistress’s company. He seemed to have no affection in him, and lived a life of mute protest.
Hervey did not speak for a few minutes. It was Prudence who broke the silence.
“I suppose it is something to do with Leslie’s death that you want to talk to me about. I wondered what your object was when you questioned me so closely upon his dying words. Have you discovered a fresh clue?”
“Something more than a fresh clue.” Hervey had relapsed into his old moroseness.
“Ah!” The girl’s face lit with an almost painful eagerness. For a moment her own immediate troubles were forgotten. A wild feeling surged up in her heart which set the blood tingling in her veins, and she waited almost breathlessly for her brother’s next words.
Hervey displayed no haste. Rather he seemed as though he would gain time.
“That message or advertisement in the paper. Did you ever attempt to fathom its meaning? It was something of a puzzle.”
Prudence gazed up at the dark face beside her. Hervey was looking down upon the dusty trail. His look was one of profound thought. In reality he was calculating certain chances.
“I tried, but failed dismally. To me it conveyed nothing beyond the fact that its author shot Leslie.”