"And mine too. We may live to be a brace of Methuselahs, but I guess we'll never see his like again!"
His odd phrase made her smile for a moment despite herself. It passed swiftly and she said:
"I can't believe it yet."
Again there was silence, and then he said abruptly:
"It's little wonder you can't believe it. The thing is so extraordinary. It's incredible. A man without an enemy in the world—no robbery attempted—sitting in his own library—in just about the most peaceful and out of the way county in Scotland—not a sound heard by anybody—not a reason that one can possibly imagine—and yet murdered!"
"But it must have been a robber surely!"
"Why didn't he rob something then?"
"But how else?"
"How indeed! You've not a suspicion of any one yourself, Miss Farmond? Say it right out if you have. We don't lynch here. At least," he corrected himself as he recalled the telegraph posts, "it hasn't been done yet."
"I can't suspect any one!" she said earnestly. "I never met any one in my life that I could possibly imagine doing such a thing!"
"No," he said. "I guess our experiences have been pretty different. I've met lots, but then there are none of those boys here. Who is there in this place?"
He paused and stared into space.
