He was morally certain that Oldham had been an eye-witness to the
tragedy. But as time went on, and no faintest indication manifested
itself that he could have been connected with the matter, he concluded
himself mistaken. Oldham could have had no motive in concealment, save
that of the same sympathy Bob had felt for Pollock. But in that case,
what more natural than that he should mention the matter privately to
Bob? If, on the other hand, he had any desire to further the ends of the
law, what should prevent him from speaking out publicly? In neither case
was silence compatible with knowledge.
But Bob knew positively the man had lied, when he stated that he had for
over an hour been sitting in the chair on Auntie Belle's back porch. Why
had he done so? Where had he been? Bob could not hazard even the wildest
guess. Oldham's status with Baker was mysterious; his occasional
business in these parts--it might well be that Oldham thought he had
something to conceal from Bob. In that case, where had the elder man
been, and what was he about during that fatal hour that Sunday morning?
Bob was not conversant with the affairs of the Power Company, but he
knew vaguely that Baker was always shrewdly reaching out for new rights
and privileges, for fresh opportunities which the other fellow had not
yet seen and which he had no desire that the other fellow should see
until too late.
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