CHAPTER VIII
DELABAR LEAVES
Gray stooped and felt the dead man's face. It was still quite warm. The priest could not have killed himself more than a few minutes ago. Probably Delabar, in his drunken wandering, had put his foot across the threshold.
With a tightening of the lips, Gray straightened and surveyed the inn. It was empty and dark except for a lantern with a crimson shade that hung over the door. Either the people of the place had seen the dead Buddhist and fled to spread the news, or they had given the room a wide berth since that afternoon.
He could not know which was actually the case. Gray, however, could afford to waste no time in speculation. He went back into their chamber, fastened his rifle over his shoulder by its sling, and jerked Delabar to his feet
"It's time we got out of here, Professor," he said, "if you haven't settled our hash for good."
The man was muttering and stumbling—hardly able to keep his feet. He could give no assistance to Gray.
They crossed the main room of the inn without
80
