George nodded.
"So it struck me. We'll look round for some more conclusive signs when you have finished."
Before this happened. Flora Grant rode up.
"I was going back from Forster's when I noticed you moving about the hills," she explained. "I made this round to find out what you were doing."
George told her, and her sympathy was obvious.
"I'm very sorry; but my father warned you," she said. "I'm afraid you're finding this an expensive campaign."
"I can put up with it, so long as I have my friends' support."
"I think you can count on that," she smiled. "But what is Flett's theory?"
"If he has one, he's clever at hiding it," Edgar broke in; "but I'm doubtful. In my opinion, he knows the value of the professional air of mystery."
"When I see any use in it, I can talk," retorted Flett. "What's your notion, Mr. Lansing? You don't agree that the fellow shot your beast from here?"