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"I been kep' so long up-country this time, 'count o' the turkey trade Thanksgivin' and Chris'mas, y'know. I do considerable in poultry." But some days passed, and Larcher heard nothing from Mr. Bud. A few of the newspapers published Detective Lafferty's unearthings, before Larcher had time to prepare Miss Kenby for them.
Lafferty's boots came off. At this point as our lorry started weaving we discovered that our co-driver was missing, there was only one man in the cab, the driver, and he was dozing off.
When the talk was finished, simultaneously with the soup, it had been agreed that Mr. Bud should "nose around" thereabouts for any confirmation of Lafferty's theory, or any trace of Davenport, and should send for Larcher if any such turned up. "I'll be in town a week ur two," said the old man, at parting.
Guy Morrow boarded a Sand Street car, and behind the sporting page of a newspaper he kept a sharp look-out for Lafferty's saloon. He came to it at last a dingy, down-at-heel resort, with much faded gilt-work over the door, and fly-specked posters of the latest social function of the district's political club showing dimly behind its unwashed windows.
Lafferty's going to give the result of his investigation to the newspaper men, anyhow. The only satisfaction I can get is to show the fellow up." When Larcher left the presence of Bagley, he carried away no definite conclusion except that Bagley was an even more detestable animal than he had before supposed.
He hangs out at Lafferty's saloon, down on Sand Street, when he ain't off on some steer or other leastways he used to." Morrow folded the warrant slowly, in the pause which ensued, and returned it to his pocket while the couple watched him tensely. "All right, Pennold," he said, at last. "I guess I won't have to use this now.
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