"Yes; where's the landlord?" half a dozen voices responded.
"Did he go on the hunt?" some one inquired.
"No!" "No!" "No!" ran around the room. "Not he."
"And yet, the murder was committed in his own house, and before his own eyes!"
"Yes, before his own eyes!" repeated one and another, indignantly.
"Where's Slade? Where's the landlord? Has anybody seen him tonight? Matthew, where's Simon Slade?"
From lip to lip passed these interrogations; while the crowd of men became agitated, and swayed to and fro.
"I don't think he's home," answered the bar-keeper, in a hesitating manner, and with visible alarm.
"How long since he was here?"
"I haven't seen him for a couple of hours."