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"We are not so altogether murderous as you seem to think," says Mona, half apologetically. All the long morning and far into the afternoon, Talking Rock swept the dust this way and that, turning it over and over, in a circle that grew always wider, and just as he was about to give up the search, he found a bit of charred and blackened bone. Was this a part of his friend's frame? Was it not more likely a bit of bone of buffalo or elk, which some dog had carried from one of the fireplaces of the camp and dropped here? "Yes; I stopped there for two or three days on my way down here. Well—and—your brother?" He cannot to himself explain the interest he feels in this story..
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"I shall tell you," exclaims she, in a higher tone, her pale-blue eyes flashing. "Two hours ago my own maid received a note from Paul Rodney's man directed to your wife. When she read it she dressed herself and went from this house in the direction of the wood. If you cannot draw your own conclusions from these two facts, you must be duller or more obstinate than I give you credit for." Ten minutes later, having bidden their hostess a hearty farewell, they step out into the open air and walk towards the farm. So in silence, but hand in hand, they move back through the dewy meads, meeting no one until they reach the little wooden gate that leads to her home. "Getting what?" asks the duchess, somewhat taken aback..
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