In the correspondence from sergeant berthelin there came a long hiatus
followed by a curt bit of official information seriously wounded. The
little red doctor brought the news to me, with a queer expression on
his face.
It doesnt look good, dominie, he said. You know, my old friend,
death, is a shrewd picker. Hes got an eye for men. He mused, rubbing
his tousled, brickish locks with a nervous hand. I was getting to kind
of like that young pup, he muttered moodily.
The saying that no news is good news was surely concocted by some one