“No,” returned Carington, thoughtfully. “No, there are none here. No, some one wanted that stone. Why!—by George, I hate to suspect the poor devil!”
“Who?”
“It is a mere guess, a suspicion. I have an idea that Joe Colkett stole that stone.”
“It is a little odd. That, exactly, is my sister’s conclusion.”
“Indeed!”
“Yes. Being a woman, she had no reason to give, or none worth anything; and yet I myself am enough inclined to agree with her to want to make sure as to whether there is any evidence to be had. It is a thing to punish.”
“I think so. The man is in pretty sore straits about money. But it cannot be any motive involving money, and yet—however, it is useless to talk about it. The first thing is to go over the ground with care. Let me do that—early to-morrow. Ah, to-day is Wednesday; I must go to Mackenzie to-morrow. That I can’t let wait. A man is to meet me there about my cabin. Can this thing rest a day?”
“Yes, I shall stay over Sunday. We had meant to go out on Saturday.”
“Then I will call late to-morrow night for your boy—as we come back, I mean.”
“One moment: I have thought best not to tell the boys. It can do no good.”