“I expect he’d gone before you got there, sir,” put in Thompson.

“Did you find the bodies of the murdered police?” asked the doctor innocently.

“Not a sign of ’em,” laughed John.  “There were no dead policemen, and, what’s more, there was no trace of any shooting.”

The three men turned on the clerk, who felt that he must justify himself.

“There was shooting enough, sir; you mark my words.  You’ll hear of it to-day, sure.”

“Lord” Bill walked away towards the window in disgust.  The clerk annoyed him.

“No, boy, no.  I’m thinking you are mistaken.  I should have discovered some trace had there been any shooting.  I don’t deny that your story’s true, but in the excitement of the moment I guess you got rattled—­and saw things.”

Old John laughed and turned away.  At that instant Bill called them all over to the window.  The bar window overlooked the market-place, and the front of Lablache’s store was almost opposite to it.

Bill pointed towards the store as the three men gathered round.  “Old man” Smith also ranged himself with the others.

“Look!” Bill smiled grimly.

A buckboard had just drawn up outside Lablache’s emporium and two people were alighting.  A crowd had gathered round the arrivals.  There was no mistaking one of the figures.  The doctor was the first to give expression to the thought that was in the mind of each of the interested spectators.

“Lablache!” he exclaimed in astonishment

“And Horrocks,” added “Lord” Bill quietly.

“Guess he wasn’t hung then after all,” said “Poker” John, turning as he spoke.  But Thompson had taken his departure.  This last blow was too much.  And he felt that it was an advantageous moment in which to retire to his employer’s store, and hide his diminished head amongst the bales of dry goods and the monumental ledgers to be found there.

“That youth has a considerable imagination.”  The Hon. Bunning-Ford turned from the window and strolled leisurely towards the door.

“Where are you going?” exclaimed “Poker” John.

“To cook some breakfast.”

“No, no, you must come up to the ranch with me.  Let’s go right over to the store first, and hear what Lablache has to say.  Then we’ll go and feed.”

Bill shrugged.  Then,—­

“Lablache and I are not on the best of terms,” he said doubtfully.  He wished to go notwithstanding his demur.  Besides he was anxious to go on to the ranch to see Jacky.  The doubt in his tone gave John his cue, and the old man refused to be denied.

“Come along,” he said, and linking his arm within the other’s, he led the way over to the store; the doctor, equally eager, bringing up the rear.

Bill suffered himself to be thus led.  He knew that in such company Lablache could not very well refuse him admission to his office.  He had a decided wish to be present when the money-lender told his tale.  However, in this he was doomed to disappointment.  Lablache had already decided upon a plan of action.