NOVEMBER JOE
cabin. While we were eating, Evans casually brought out a scrap of the worsted he had detached from the nail outside.
"Seen any one with a necker like that, Mrs. Rone?" he asked.
The young woman glanced at the bit of wool, then bent over Danny as she fed him. When she raised her head I noticed that she looked very white.
"There's more'n one of that colour hereabouts likely," she replied, with another glance of studied indifference.
"It's not a common pattern of wool," said Evans. "Well, you're all witnesses where I got it. I'm off."
"Where are you going?" I asked.
"It's my business to find the man with the pink necker."
Evans nodded and swung off through the door.
November looked at Sally.
"Who is he, Sally?"
Mrs. Rone's pretty forehead puckered into a frown. "Who?"
"Pink and grey necker," said Joe gently.
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