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Dead Men's Money by J. S. (Joseph Smith) Fletcher
page 50 of 269 (18%)
"Not one," said I. "From first to last, not one."

He was silent again for a time, and all the folk staring at him and me;
and for the life of me I could not think what other questions he could
get out of his brain to throw at me. But he found one, and put it with a
sharp cast of his eye.

"Now, did this man ever give you, while he was in your house, any reason
at all for his coming to Berwick?" he asked.

"Yes," I answered; "he did that when he came asking for lodgings. He said
he had folk of his own buried in the neighbourhood, and he was minded to
take a look at their graves and at the old places where they'd lived."

"Giving you, in fact, an impression that he was either a native of
these parts, or had lived here at some time, or had kindred that
had?" he asked.

"Just that," I replied.

"Did he tell you the names of such folk, or where they were buried, or
anything of that sort?" he suggested.

"No--never," said I. "He never mentioned the matter again."

"And you don't know that he ever went to any particular place to look at
any particular grave or house?" he inquired.

"No," I replied; "but we knew that he took his walks into the country on
both sides Tweed."
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