I guess Slattery let this one do most of the fighting; he ain't
scratched; but Mr. Harkless certainly made it hot for the Teller."
"My relative believes that Mr. Harkless is still alive," said Meredith.
Mr. Barrett permitted himself an indulgent smile. He had the air of having
long ago discovered everything which anybody might wish to know, and of
knowing a great deal which he held in reserve because it was necessary to
suppress many facts for a purpose far beyond his auditor's comprehension,
though a very simple matter to himself.
"Well, hardly, I expect," he replied, easily. "No; he's hardly alive."
"Oh, don't say that," said Meredith.
"I'm afraid Mr. Barrett has to say it," broke in Warren Smith. "We're up
here to see this fellow before he dies, to try and get him to tell what
disposal they made of the----"
"Ah!" Meredith shivered. "I believe I'd rather he said the other than to
hear you say that."
Mr. Horner felt the need of defending a fellow-townsman, and came to the
rescue, flushing painfully. "It's mighty bad, I know," said the sheriff of
Carlow, the shadows of his honest, rough face falling in a solemn pattern;
"I reckon we hate to say it as much as you hate to hear it; and Warren
really didn't get the word out. It's stuck in our throats all day; and I
don't recollect as I heard a single man say it before I left our city this
morning.
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