Behind her were Billy, like her shadow, and the sane and quiet Conford.
Steptoe Service, fat and important, was busy at his desk. His spurs lay on a table, his wide hat beside them. The star of his office shone on his suspender strap.
“Step Service,” said the girl straightly, “when are you goin’ to look into this here murder?”
Service swung round and shot an ugly look at her from his small eyes.
“Have already done so,” he said, “ben out an’ saw to th’ buryin’!”
Tharon gasped.
“Buried him already? How dared you do it?”
“Say,” said Service, banging a fist on his table, “I’m th’ sheriff of Menlo County, young woman. I ordered him buried.”
“Where?”
“What’s it to you?”