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"You heard what Miss Demarest had to say about a room whose walls were covered with muddy pink scrolls." "Oh, she!" His shrug was very expressive. Huldah continued to look down. "Miss Demarest seemed to know what she was talking about," pursued the coroner in direct contradiction of the tone he had taken the day before. "Her description was quite vivid.
He went on with a little catch of anxiety in his voice. "Now, Dick, tell us! Who killed that man? We must know. Tell me." Burke broke in impatiently, with his blustering fashion of address. "Where did you get ?" But Demarest raised a restraining hand. "Wait, please!" he admonished the Inspector. "You wait a bit." He went a step toward the young man.
Demarest permitted himself a sneer born of legal knowledge. "Griggs is dead, Burke. You're up against it. You can't prove that Garson, or Chicago Red, or Dacey, ever entered that house." The Inspector scowled over this positive statement. "But Griggs said they were going to," he argued. "I know," Demarest agreed, with an exasperating air of shrewdness; "but Griggs is dead.
Mary's face fell, though the change of expression was almost imperceptible. Only Demarest, a student of much experience, observed the fleeting display of repressed emotion. When the Inspector took thought to look at her, she was as impassive as before. Yet, he was minded to try another ruse in his desire to defeat the intelligence of this woman.
Demarest realized subtly that his plea had failed, but he made ar effort to resist the impression, to take the admission at its face value. "Why?" he demanded. Dick's answer came in the like unmeaning tones, and as wearily. "Because I thought he was a burglar."
"Down near those buttes, where the big camp is bound to be, there's plenty of water, and before many days have passed Ragtown in all its glory will be erected right there. "These supplies that we're hauling now are charged to the account of Demarest, Spruce & Tillou," she further explained. "You see, they furnish their subs with everything they need.
"Will you please tell me again what you did a few days back about the camp at Demarest, Spruce & Tillou?" he asked. "Explain it all, please just why you think the tent town will eventually be located in a different place than it is now." "Why, it's simple," she told him. "It's this way: Demarest, Spruce & Tillou have the main contract here a hundred miles, I've heard.
"Good-night!" quoth Cassidy, turning at the door, in admission of his discomfiture over the thrust, while Burke himself grinned wryly in appreciation of the gibe. Demarest grew grave again, as he put the question that was troubling him most. "Is there any chance that young Gilder did shoot Griggs?" "You can search me!" the Inspector answered, disconsolately.
"Not at all, Mr. Demarest. Two and a half cents is my minimum. I'll freight for that only if forced to by the trucks. I doubt if I can make money at that figure. Only a trial over an extended period of time will tell. It all depends on the nature of the soil on the condition that the roads develop after a period of heavy traffic over them, and the devastation of the winter rains.
Now when Demarest, Spruce & Tillou move in there will be little or no freighting for us to any camp but theirs. All goods will be concentrated in their commissary then, and the subs will buy direct from them and do their own hauling to the various camps.
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