“He was shot before he went off the grade, eh? Shot through the heart.”
“Yes. It was either a revolver bullet, or possibly a rifle, fired at long range. The bullet was still in him, Brick. It is a .45 caliber.”
Brick glanced quickly around. The men were busy with the coffee and none of them had heard what the doctor had told.
“Doc, can yuh keep this a secret?” queried Brick. “Mebbe we better let Harp in on it. Can yuh do this? It might be easier that-a-way.”
“You are the sheriff,” replied the doctor softly. “I am ready to do as you say. Every one thinks that Malloy accidentally ran off the grade. We can always exhume the body, you know.”
“All right,” nodded Brick. “And I’m much obliged, doc.”
“That’s all right, Brick. And there was no sign of the child?”
Brick shook his head wearily and went back after more hot coffee. Miss Miller and Mrs. Wesson were talking to Harp, who was too tired to even be bashful. But they were not joking him now.
The men gradually drifted away to get a few hours sleep before renewing the search. Brick, Harp and Silent went down to the office, with the intention of going to bed, but they had only been there a few minutes when Bill Grant came in, accompanied by the stranger who had met Brick and Harp on the road.
“Hello, Brick,” greeted Grant. “I want yuh to meet Mr. Santel.”