The sheriff pulled on his pipe for a moment. "That boy of yours still catching butterflies?" he asked presently.
Mart scowled. He swung out a long arm toward the walls with their floods of butterflies. But he did not answer.
"Uh-huh!" said Munn, following the gesture with his quiet eyes. He puffed several times before he spoke again.
"What time did you come in, Brenner, from the beach?"
Mrs. Brenner closed her hands tightly, the interlaced fingers locking themselves.
"Oh, about forty minutes ago, I guess it was. Wasn't it, Olga?" Mart said carelessly.
"Yes." Her voice was a breath.
"Was your boy out to-day?"
Mart looked at his wife. "I dunno."
Munn's glance came to the wife.