"No one sent you any word then that we were coming? or gave you any
orders to look after us?"

The blank expression of his face was sufficient answer. I waited a
moment, thinking, endeavoring to determine my next move. This
knowledge made one thing clear--we were playing a lone hand. As well
planned as was the scheme of those two conspirators they had reckoned
without sufficient knowledge of the existing conditions here. But was
this true? Would villains as shrewd as they be guilty of such neglect?
Besides, they had assured me that the overseer would be notified of our
coming. Suddenly there flashed back to my memory a picture of that
murdered man in the rear room. Could he be the connecting link? the
overseer sent by Neale? If this horrible suspicion was correct it only
proved the desperate character of those against whom I contended. And
if true only the harshest measure would compel Coombs to acknowledge
the truth. I drew in my breath, every nerve braced for action. Then I
jerked the revolver from my pocket, and held it, glimmering ominously
in the light, across my knee.

"You probably have some reason for lying to me," I said coldly, "and
now I am going to give you an equally good reason for telling the
truth. What do you know about the administrators of this estate?"

He was breathing hard, his eyes on the shining barrel.

"There is one named Neale, is n't there?"

"I--I reckon so."

"How do you know?"