The face of the hostess darkened with some shadow of perplexity, as she replied: “Gaffer has never been where you have been.”

“Signifying in Quod, Miss? Perhaps not. But he may have merited it. He may be suspected of far worse than ever I was.”

“Who suspects him?”

“Many, perhaps. One, beyond all doubts. I do.”

“ You are not much,” said Miss Abbey Potterson, knitting her brows again with disdain.

“But I was his pardner. Mind you, Miss Abbey, I was his pardner. As such I know more of the ins and outs of him than any person living does. Notice this! I am the man that was his pardner, and I am the man that suspects him.”