winged by any one from our place. Wouldn't we have known something
about it if he had attempted to get into the house and was nailed by--
Why, Lord love you, sir, there isn't a soul at Green Fancy who could
shoot a thief if he saw one. This is Mr. De Soto, also a guest at
Green Fancy. He will, I think, bear me out in upsetting your theory."

A second man approached, shaking his head vigorously. He was a thin,
pale man with a singularly scholastic face. Quite an unprepossessing,
unsanguinary person, thought Barnes.

"Mr. Curtis's chauffeur, I think it was, said the killing occurred
just above this house," said he, visibly excited. "Green Fancy is at
least a mile from here, isn't it? You don't shoot burglars a mile from
the place they are planning to rob, do you? Is the man a native of
this community?"

"No," said Barnes, on whom devolved the duties of spokesman. "By the
way, his companion lies dead at Hart's Tavern. He was shot from his
horse at the cross-roads."

"God bless me soul," gasped O'Dowd. "The chauffeur didn't mention a
second one. And were there two of them?"

"And both of them dead?" cried De Soto. "At the cross-roads? My dear
sir, how can you reconcile--" He broke off with a gesture of
impatience.

"I'll admit it's a bit out of reason," said Barnes. "The second man
could only have been shot by some one who was lying in wait for him."