They say she
died of a broken heart. I've heard mother speak of it often. I
wonder--great heavens, it isn't possible that Rosalie can be
connected in any way with John Barnes? Anderson Crow, I--I wonder if
there is a possibility?" Bonner was quivering with excitement,
wonder--and--unbelief.
"I'm workin' on that clew," said Anderson as calmly as his tremors would
permit. He was thrilled by the mere suggestion, but it was second nature
for him to act as if every discovery were his own. "Ever sence I saw him
on the road up there, I've been trackin' him. I tell you, Wick, he's my
man. I've got it almost worked out. Just as soon as these blamed robbers
are moved to Boggs City, er buried, I'm goin' over an' git the truth out
of Mr. Barnes. I've been huntin' him fer twenty-one years." Anderson, of
course, was forgetting that Barnes had slipped from his mind completely
until Bonner nudged his memory into life.
"It's a delicate matter, Mr. Crow. We must go about it carefully," said
Bonner severely. "If Mr. Barnes is really interested in her, we can't
find it out by blundering; if he is not interested, we can't afford to
drag him into it. It will require tact--"
"Thunderation, don't you suppose I know that?" exploded Anderson.
"Detectives are allers tackin'. They got to, y' see, ef they're goin' to
foller half a dozen clews at oncet.
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