Mr. Bunn scowled. "Yes—" he said slowly at last. "Yes, it was murder! I was there— or thereabouts! Stuck up like a graven image— or a blamed fool!"
For a few seconds, the partners stared at each other. Then Mr. Bunn finished his first sherry and took another.
"I tried to save that poor chap. I went out there to warn him this afternoon. I saw them kill his dog— but I thought he was. safely away from home."
He turned his heavy, square red face from the decanter to his partner, his eyes, hard as green flint. "They are an ugly crowd. The worst we have collided with— the very worst, Squire! They kill like snakes— they strike blind like lightning!" he said, and Fortworth had never heard his normally bland voice so grave. "If we're going to do anything with this crowd— the folk behind these mu
