At the foot of the couch still crouched the old crone, but there was no sign of the Chief.
"Get up!" said the Inspector to the old squaw, turning the blankets and skins upside down.
"Hee! hee!" she laughed in diabolical glee, spitting at him as he passed.
"Did no one enter ?" asked Cameron.
"Not a soul." "Nor go out ?" "No one except the old squaw here.

I saw her go out with a pack." "With a pack!" echoed Cameron.

And the two men stood looking at each other.

"By Jove!" said Cameron in deep disgust, "We're done.

He is rightly named Copperhead.