would know by tomorrow. The walls of her house were not sound proof. Besides, Mrs. Sommers had remarkably keen ears.
“They's been a gentleman here ask for you, Vic,” she said, “but I thought maybe you wouldn't like it much to be disturbed. So I told him you wasn't here.”
Her smile fairly glowed with triumph.
“Thanks,” said Gregg, “but who was he?”
“I never seen him before. Anyway, it didn't much matter. He wanted to see some of the rest of the boys quite bad: Pete Glass and Ronicky Joe, and Sliver Waldron, and Gus Reeve. He seemed to want to see 'em all particular bad.”
“Pete Glass and Ronicky and—the posse!” murmured Vic. He grew thoughtful. “He wanted to see me, too?”
“Very particular, and he seemed kind of down-hearted when he found that Pete was out of town. Wanted to know when he might be back.”
“What sort of a lookin' gent was he?” asked Vic, and his voice was sharp.
“Him? Oh, he looked like a tenderfoot to me. Terrible polite, though, and he had a voice that wasn't hardly rougher'n a girl's. Seemed like he was sort of embarrassed jest talkin' to me.” She smiled at the thought, but Gregg was on his feet now, his hands on the shoulders of Mrs. Sommers as though he would try to shake information from her loose bulk.
