“No.”

“Or Justus C. Vail?”

He shook his head.

“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?”

“Wal,” feeling it useless to struggle against the argument presented by the blue steel barrel, “Hell, all I know is a fellow com’ ’long yere a while back with a paper signed Neale, thinkin’ ter take my job.”

“What happened to him?”

“Oh, he just nat’ally got kicked out inter the road, an’ I reckon he ’s a running yet.  He was a miserable Yankee runt, an’ I did n’t hurt the cuss none to speak of.  What yer askin’ all this fer enyhow,” he questioned anxiously, “an’ a drawin’ that gun on me?”

“It seemed to be the only available method for extracting information.  Pardon my insistence, Coombs, but was n’t that dead man up there the fellow Neale sent?”

“Not by a damn sight,” and I could see the perspiration break out on his forehead.  “Why, there wan’t none enyhow.  That guy skipped out North agin.”

“All right; we’ll let it go this time.  Now one more question and I am done.  Under whose orders are you in charge here?”

He was so long in answering, his eyes glaring ugly under heavy brows, that I elevated my weapon, half believing he meditated an attack.

“You ’ve got to answer, Coombs,” I said sternly, “or take the consequences.  I ’m in dead earnest.”