The sound of footsteps on the porch pulled him from his thoughts; boots clattered loudly. That Jones was heading to the front of the house, and Frum called him: - Come in here. I'm here. Jones went straight to the office. He stopped in the doorway, leaning lazily on the shoulder joint. He smelled of sweat and horses. - Well, what is it? - Asked Frum. - Singleton here goes - said Jones - I could see it through binoculars. I thought that it would be necessary to tell you. - Thank you, - said Froome. He closed the ledger. And what the devil is Shad Singleton showed up for a visit? To talk about the troubles again?