"And he doesn't intend ever to return?"
"I believe not."
The visitor's eyes flashed swiftly around the room. The two men were alone.
"I think, then, I see through it." The voice was lower than before. "One of my best mares disappeared night before last, and I haven't been able to get trace of a hoof or hair since."
"What?" Rankin was interested at last.
Scotty repeated the statement, and his host eyed him a full half minute steadily.
"And you just—tell of it?" he said at last.
The Englishman shifted uneasily in his seat.
"Yes." Forgetting that he had just polished his glasses, he took them off and went through the process again.
"Yes, I may as well be honest, I've seen a bit of these Westerners about here, and I don't really agree with their scheme of justice. They're apt to put two and two together and make eight where you know it's only four." For the second time he sprung the bows back over his ears. "And when they find out their beastly mistake—why—oh—it's too late then, perhaps, for some poor devil!"