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Page 61
From a map of the county he had studied the surrounding roads
thoroughly, and soon came out on a highway leading to Matlock Styles'
residence. He was more than ever interested in the Englishman and
wondered what John Watkins, Tom Ostrello and Styles might have in
common.
In the distance he presently beheld a house he knew must be the Styles
place. There was a turn in the road and instead of going up to the
house by the front way the detective leaped a fence and passed through
a wheatfield. Beyond this, and quite close to the house and the
out-buildings, was a field planted with corn, between the rows of which
were pumpkins and squashes.
He had hoped to gain the vicinity of the residence without being
observed, as it was now growing darker, but he was not yet halfway
through the cornfield when the deep baying of a mastiff burst upon his
ear, coming nearer and nearer.
"Hullo! this is something I didn't bargain for," he muttered. He did
not wish to shoot a valuable dog and at the same time he did not intend
to run the risk of being bitten and perhaps torn to pieces.
He halted and drew his pistol, and a second later the dog burst into
view. He was a full-blooded mastiff and a magnificent creature in
every way. He came to a halt and showed his teeth, and presently his
mate also appeared.
"Back there!" cried the detective. "Back, I say!" But the dogs only
came closer, baying loudly and eying him in anything but a friendly
fashion.
"Hi, there, Nelson!" came a voice from the other side of the cornfield.
"Hi, Queen, what's the matter?"
"Call off your dogs, unless you want me to shoot them!" exclaimed Adam
Adams.
"Blast you, don't you shoot my dogs," was the answer, and in a moment
more Matlock Styles put in an appearance. He carried a dog-whip and
motioned the animals away. "Back, Nelson, you bloody brute! Back,
Queen!" And both animals slunk to his rear.
"Thanks! I am glad you came," said Adam Adams, and slipped his pistol
back into his pocket.
"Are you?" sneered the Englishman. "If you had killed one of those
dogs you would have gotten into a mess, I can warrant. They are worth
a hundred pounds--five hundred dollars--each."
"Great smoke! I'm glad I didn't touch 'em, sir. I couldn't pay for
one leg," and the detective grinned.
"What are you doing in this field?"
"I thought I'd take a short-cut to the Knoxbury road. It's getting
late and I want to get back to the tavern there."
"The Knoxbury road? Why, man, you're a good three miles out of your
bloomin' way. The Knoxbury road isn't this way--it's over there," and
Matlock Styles pointed with his whip.
"Is that so? Then I'm twisted. Too bad! I'm so dog tired I can't
walk much further either."
"Been taking a constitutional?"
"That and I walked over to look at the place where that double murder
took place. Awful crime that, eh? Made me shiver just to look at the
house. I suppose you've heard about it?"
"Yes, everybody knows about it around here."
"They say the man's daughter did it."
"If she did, they ought to string her up for it," growled Matlock
Styles. "Such a blasted, cold-blooded crime as that was. Was you to
the inquest?"
"No."
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