WHEN EGYPT WENT BROKE A NOVEL By Holman Day WHEN EGYPT WENT BROKE CHAPTER I T. BRITT STARTS TO COLLECT Tasper Britt arose in the gray dawn, as usual. Some fishermen, seeking bait, stay up late and "jack" angleworms witha bull's-eye light. The big worms are abroad on the soil under coverof the darkness. Other fishermen get up early and dig while the dew isholding the smaller worms near the surface of the ground; in going afterworms the shrewd operator makes the job easy for himself. Tasper Britt--"Twelve-per-cent Britt"--trimmed his slumber at bothends--was owl and early bird, both, in his pursuit of the pence of thepeople, and got 'em coming and going. He was the money boss for the town of Egypt, and those who did not givehim his per cent nickname called him "Phay-ray-oh"--but behind his back, of course. To his face his debt slaves bespoke his favor obsequiously. Seeing that nearly every "Egyptian" with collateral owed him money, Mr. Britt had no fault to find with his apparent popularity. He did believe, complacently, that he was popular. A man who was less sure of himselfwould not have dared to appear out, all at once, with his beard dyedpurple-black and with a scratch wig to match. Men gasped when they cameinto his office in Britt Block, but men held their faces measurablyunder control even though their diaphragms fluttered; the need ofrenewing a note--paying a bonus for the privilege--helped supplicantsto hold in any bubbling hilarity. Therefore, Mr. Britt continued to beassured that he was pretty generally all right, so far as the folks ofEgypt were concerned. Mr. Britt dyed after Hittie died. That was when he was past sixty-five. It was only the familiar, oft-repeated instance of temperament beingjounced out of a lifelong rut by a break in wedlock relations. Hittie was his yoke-mate, pulling hard at his side with wages of foodand drink. The two of them kept plodding steadily in the dry and rockyroad all the years, never lifting their eyes to look over into pasturesforbidden. Perhaps if Hittie had been left with the money, after theyoke had been sundered, she would have kicked up her heels in a fewfinal capers of consolation, in order to prove to herself, by briefexperience, how much better consistent sainthood was as a settled state. In view of such a possibility--and widows are not altogether differentfrom widowers--it was hardly fair in the folks of Egypt to twist everyact of Widower Britt to his discredit and to make him out a renegade ofa relict. He did go through all the accepted motions as a mourner. Hetook on "something dreadful" at the funeral. He placed in the cemeterylot a granite statue of himself, in a frock coat of stone and holding astone plug hat in the hook of the elbow. That statue cost Tasper Brittrising sixteen hundred dollars--and after he dyed his beard and boughtthe top piece of hair, the satirists of Egypt were unkind enough to saythat he had set his stone image out in the graveyard to scare Hittie ifshe tried to arise and spy on his new carryings-on. Mr. Britt had continued to be a consistent mourner, according to theold-fashioned conventions. When he arose in the dawn of the day with which the tale begins andunwound a towel from his jowls--for the new Magnetic Hair Restorer hadan ambitious way of touching up the pillow-slip with color--he behelda memento, composed of assembled objects, "sacred to the memory ofMehitable. " In a frame, under glass, on black velvet were these items:silver plate from casket, hair switch, tumbler and spoon with whichthe last medicine had been administered, wedding ring and marriagecertificate; photograph in center. The satirists had their comment forthat memento--they averred that it was not complete without the two dishtowels to which Hittie had been limited. Mr. Britt inspected the memento and sighed; that was before he hadtouched up his beard with a patent dye comb. After he had set the scratch wig on his glossy poll and had studiedhimself in the mirror he looked more cheerful and pulled a snapshotphotograph from a bureau drawer, gazed on it and sighed again. It wasthe picture of a girl, a full-length view of a mighty pretty girl whosesmiling face was backed by an open sunshade. She was in white garb andwore no hat. "Vona, " said Mr. Britt, talking out as if the sound of his voicefortified his faith, "you're going to see this thing in the right way, give you time. I'm starting late--but I'm blasted wide awake from nowon. I have gone after money, but money ain't everything. I reckon thatby to-night I can show you honors that you'll share with me--they'vebeen waiting for me, and now I'll reach out and take 'em for your sake. Hittie didn't know what to do with money--honors would have botheredher. But with a girl like you I can grab in and relish living for therest of this life. " Then Mr. Britt went over to the tavern to get his breakfast. By eating his three meals per day at the tavern he was indulging his newsense of liberty. He and Hittie always used to eat in the kitchen--mealson the dot, as to time. The tavern was little and dingy, and Egypt wasoff the railroad line, and there were few patrons, and old Files cut hissteak very close to the critter's horn. But after the years of routineat a home table there was a sort of clubman, devil-may-care suggestionabout this new regime at the tavern; and after his meals Britt sat inthe tavern office and smoked a cigar. Furthermore, he held a mortgageon the tavern and Files was behind on the interest and was eagerly andhumbly glad to pay his creditor with food. In order to impress a peddleror other transient guest the creditor was in the habit of calling inFiles and ordering him to recook portions. In his new sense of expansion as a magnate, Tasper Britt took his timeabout eating and allowed men with whom he had dealings to come into thedining room and sit down opposite and state their cases. That morning Ossian Orne came in and sat at the table without asking forpermission to be admitted to such intimacy. He came with the air of aman who was keeping an appointment, and Mr. Britt's manner of greetingOrne showed that this was so. Mr. Orne did not remove the earlapper cap which the nippy February daydemanded; nor did he shuck off the buffalo coat whose baldness in therear below the waistline suggested the sedentary habits of Mr. Orne. He selected a doughnut from the plate at Britt's elbow and munchedplacidly. Landlord Files, who was bringing ham and eggs to a commercial drummer, was amazed by this familiarity and stopped and showed that amazement. Hewas more astonished by what he overheard. Mr. Orne was saying, "As yourmanager, Britt--" Mr. Britt scowled at Mr. Files, and the latter slap-slupped on hisslippered way; it was certainly news that Britt had taken on a manager. Such a personage must be permitted to be familiar. When Mr. Files lookedagain, Mr. Orne was eating a second doughnut. He was laying down the lawto a nodding and assenting Mr. Britt on some point, and then he took athird doughnut and rose to his feet. "I'll be back to-night, with full details and further instructions toyou, Britt, " declared Mr. Orne, who was known in the county politicalcircles as "Sniffer" Orne. He combined politics with nursery-stockcanvassing and had a way of his own in getting under the skins of menwhen he went in search of information. "If I ain't back to-night I'llreport to-morrow. I may have to take a run over into Norway, Vienna, andPeru to make sure of how things stand generally. " He trudged out, stooping forward and waddling with the gait of a parrotambling along on a pole; his projecting coat tail and his thin beakgave him a sort of avian look. The commercial drummer, overhearing hisprojected itinerary, glanced out of the window as if he expected tosee Mr. Orne spread wings and fly. But Mr. Orne tucked himself into ahigh-backed sleigh and went jangling off along Egypt's single street. The stranger, inquiring of Mr. Files, learned that Mr. Orne was not asmuch of a globe-trotter as he sounded. "It's only the way the Old Sirs named the towns in the ranges about herewhen the land was took up. In this range we have Egypt and them othertowns you heard him speak of. In the next range below are Jerusalem andDamascus and Levant and Purgatory Mills. If them unorganized townshipsto the north of us are ever took up and made towns of, it would be justlike some whifflehead to name 'em Heaven, Hell, Hooray, and Hackmetack. But the name of Egypt fits this town all right, " stated Mr. Files, disconsolately, and in his perturbation raising his voice. "Files, don't run down your home town, " rasped Mr. Britt. "What has been run down as far's it can be run can't be run no farther, "said the landlord. "And I 'ain't said why the name Egypt fits the town, for that matter. " Britt's ugly stare was taking the spirit out of thelandlord's rebelliousness. "Suppose you do say!" counseled Mr. Britt, menace in his tones. "I'vegot a new and special reason, right now, why I demand that every citizenmust uphold the good name of our town--especially a citizen in yourposition, first to meet all arriving strangers. Why does the name fitthis town?" He banged the handle of his knife on the table. Mr. Britt had reason for the heat which he was displaying and whichcaused the stranger to open his eyes more widely. Mr. Britt was fullyaware that men called him "Phay-ray-oh" and that his statue in thecemetery was called "The Sphinx. " He knew that since the town hadgone on the down grade through debt and the decay of industries theinhabitants had begun to call themselves "The Children of Israel, "and to say they were trying to make bricks without straw. In fact, anitinerant evangelist who called himself "The Light of the World" hadcome to town and was trying to exhort the inhabitants into rebellionagainst conditions, and in his crack-brained hysteria was having somesuccess in exciting "The Children" to protest against the domination byTasper Britt. Mr. Files was not as handy with his tongue as he was with the malletwith which he pounded steak. He struggled with an inept reply aboutan old town having a dignified old name. He stuttered and stopped whenBritt came and stood in front of him, chewing savagely on a toothpick. "Files, I wasn't intending to make a formal announcement till mypolitical manager, Ossian Orne, gets back with reports from the field. Not but what I expect that when it is known that I'm willing to acceptpolitical honor it will be given to me. But when I sit in the nextlegislature of this state as Representative Britt of Egypt, I propose torepresent a town that ain't slurred at home or abroad. Hereafter, mindyour tongue and advise others to do the same. " He stamped out. Landlord Files was left standing with an open mouth fromwhich no speech issued. "Emperor, or only a plain king?" inquired the bagman. "You being a stranger, I can let out some of my feelings, " returned Mr. Files. "Emperor, you say? He might just as well try to be one as to runfor the legislature. " The drummer showed interest. "That's what getting to be a widderer can do to some men, " confided thelandlord. He placed a smutty hand on the table and leaned down. "Thatlegislature thing ain't the half of it, mister! He hasn't blacked hiswhiskers and bought that false mane simply so as to get into politics. He's trying to court the prettiest girl in this town. " "Aha!" said the drummer. "The old story! Cleopatra, queen of Egypt, isdoing the job over again with the local Mark Antony!" "Mebbe, " admitted Mr. Files, his fishy gaze revealing that he had nopersonal knowledge of the parties mentioned. "It's the old story, allright. Widdereritis, and a bad run of it. " The bagman had a scarfpin in the shape of a horse shoe. His comment wasin line with his taste in adornment. "Files, old scout, if a colt is putto harness so early that he can't get his natural fling in the fields, he'll have it at the other end of his life, when he's let run topasture, spavin or no spavin. Why don't Egypt hold off and let UncleWhat's-his-name enjoy his new hair and hopes?" "He has known how to collect in the money that's due him, " statedMr. Files, "compound interest and all! He was only getting back hisinvestments. But he has never put out any of the kind of capital thatearns liking or respect or love. He has woke up to what he has beenmissing. He's trying to collect what he has never invested. And he can'tdo it, mister! No, sir, he can't!" The drummer was a young man. He asked a natural question. "Isn't thegirl willing to be an old man's darling?" "You might go over to Britt's bank and ask her, " suggested Mr. Files, crisply. "She's bookkeeper there. But you'd better not let that youngfellow that's cashier overhear you. " "So that's it? Say, events in Egypt in the near future may make some ofthe mummies here sit up and take notice!" "Shouldn't wonder a mite, " agreed Mr. Files, beginning to gather up thedishes. CHAPTER II FIRST COLLECTIONS That morning Mr. Britt did not dawdle in the hotel office with hiscigar. He knew perfectly well that he merely had been making a pretenseof enjoying that sybaritism, putting on his new clubman airs along withhis dye and his toupee. Among other curios in the office was a dusty, stuffed alligator, hangingfrom the ceiling over the desk. The jaws were widely agape and Mr. Britt always felt an inclination to yawn when he looked alligatorward. Therefore, the alligator offended Mr. Britt by suggesting drowsinessin the morning; Mr. Britt, up early, and strictly after any worm thatshowed itself along the financial path, resented the feeling of daytimesleepiness as heresy. Furthermore, that morning the gaping alligatoralso suggested the countenance of the open-mouthed Files whom Britthad just left in the dining room, and Files had been irritating. Brittscowled at the alligator, lighted a cigar, and hustled outdoors; he hadthe feeling that the day was to be an important one in his affairs. Egypt's Pharaoh was able to view considerable of the town from thetavern porch. The tavern was an old stage-coach house and was boostedhigh on a hill, according to the pioneer plan of location. The houses ofthe little village straggled down the hill. The aspect was not uninviting, seen under the charitable cloak ofFebruary's snow, sun-touched by the freshly risen luminary, the whiteexpanses glinting; all the rocks and ledges and the barren shapes werecovered. But under summer's frank sunlight Egypt was as disheartening aspectacle as a racked old horse, ribs and hip bones outthrust, waitingfor the knacker's offices. There were men in Egypt--men whose reverses had put them in aparticularly ugly mood--who said out loud in places where Britt couldnot hear them that the money-grabber could not get much more thantwelve-per-cent blood out of the nag he had ridden for so long, andmight as well set knife to neck and put the town out of its misery. Right behind Britt, as he stood on the porch, was a sheaf of yellowedpapers nailed to the side of the tavern. Nobody in Egypt bothered tolook at the papers; all the taxpayers knew what they were; the paperswere signed by the high sheriff of the county and represented that allthe real estate of Egypt had been sold over and over for taxes and hadbeen bid in by the town as a municipality--and there the matter rested. Egypt, in other words, had been trying to lift itself by the bootstrapsand was not merely still standing on the ground, but was considerablysunk in the hole that had been dug by the boot heels while Egypt wasjumping up and down. Mr. Britt was not troubled by the sight of theyellowed papers; he owned mortgages and pulled in profit by the legalcuriosities known as "Holmes notes"--leeches of particular drawingpower. Mr. Britt did not own real estate. Egypt, in its financial stressand snarl of litigation, was a wonderful operating field for a man withloose money and a tight nature. From far swamps the whack of axes sounded. Mr. Britt knew that men werecutting hoop poles and timber for shooks; Egypt earned ready moneywith which to pay interest, getting out shooks and hoop poles. Thatoccupation had been the resource of the pioneers, and the descendantsstuck to the work, knowing how to do it better than anything else. Therewas not enough soil for farming on a real money-making scale. The oldsheep, so cynics said, were trained to hold the lambs by their tails andlower them head downward among the rocks to graze. Poor men usuallyown dogs. But dogs would not live long in Egypt, the cynics went on toassert; the dogs ran themselves to death hustling over the town line tofind dirt enough to bury a bone. Mr. Britt could see his statue in the cemetery. Down the street was a one-story brick building, the only brick structurein the town. Set into the front of this building was a replica of thestatue in the cemetery. Britt had secured special rates by ordering twostatues from the stonecutter. Britt possessed vanity. He had hidden it, begrudging the cost of gratifying it. The crust of his nature, hardeningthrough the years, had pressed upon that vanity. The statues, hisrefurbished beard, and his rehaired head had relieved the pressuresomewhat, but the vanity was still sore. In his new mood he was dreadinga blow on that sore spot. He realized what kind of a grudge he wascarrying around. A vague sense of an unjust deal in life is moredangerous to the possessor than an acute and concrete knowledge ofspecific injury. The vagueness causes it to be correlated to insanity. Britt, putting his belated aspirations to the test, hoped that nobodywould presume to hit on that sore spot. He knew that such an adventuremight be dangerous for the person or persons who went up against him. He buttoned his overcoat, settled the cigar rigidly into one corner ofhis mouth, stared with approval at the stone image of himself in thefacade of Britt Block, and walked to the edge of the porch. Across the street sat a little building above the door of which was asign inscribed, "Usial Britt, Shoemaker. " That it was a dwelling as wellas a shop was indicated when a bare and hairy arm was thrust from a sidewindow and the refuse in a smoking iron spider was dumped upon thesnow. Simultaneously it was shown that more than one person tenanted thebuilding: a man, bareheaded, but with a shaggy mat of roached hair thatserved in lieu of a hat, issued from the door. The wanton luxuriance ofthe hair would have stirred envy in any baldheaded man; but Tasper Brittexhibited a passion that was more virulent than envy. The man who came forth was "Prophet Elias. " It was the newcomer, thereligious fanatic, the exhorter against oppression of the people byusury, the fearless declaimer who named Tasper Britt in diatribe and wassetting the folks by the ears. The Prophet's morning greeting did not make for amity. He stood straightand pointed in turn to the visible statues and then to Tasper Britt, inperson. "Baal, and the images of Baal!" he shouted. "Stone, all three!" Then he stepped from the door and spread a prodigiously big umbrella--anumbrella striped in dingy colors and of the size of the canopies seenover the drivers of delivery wagons. The employment of such a shieldfrom the sun in midwinter indicated that the Prophet was rather morethan eccentric; his garb conveyed the same suggestion. He wore a frayedpurple robe that hung on his heels when he came striding across thestreet. On a broad band of cloth that once had been white, reaching fromshoulder to waist, diagonally across his breast, were the words, "TheLight of the World. " Tasper Britt surveyed him with venomous gaze as he advanced. But Brittshifted his stare and put additional venom into the look he gave aman who came to the door and stood there, leaning against the jamb andsurveying the scene with a satisfied grin. There was no need of the name"Britt" above his head to proclaim his kinship with the man who stood onthe tavern porch. The beard of the Britt in the door was gray, and hishead was bald. But he was Tasper Britt, in looks, as Britt unadornedought to have been. There was something like subtle reproach in hissticking to nature as nature had ordained. And the folks of Egypt hadbeen having much to say about Usial Britt putting this new touch ofmalice into the long-enduring feud between twin brothers--even thoughhe merely went on as he had been going, bald and gray. But because Usialhad taken to going about in public places wherever Tasper appeared, andunobtrusively got as near his brother as possible on those occasions, and winked and pointed to himself and suggested "Before using!" themalice was apparent. Usial, in the door, stroked his smooth poll complacently and grinned. Tasper, on the porch, shook his fist. Prophet Elias marched close to the porch and struck an attitude. "Hearye! Hath not Job said, 'The triumphing of the wicked is short, and thejoy of the hypocrite but for a moment'?" A man who was humped over a sawbuck in a nearby yard straightened upand began to pay strict attention. A driver halted a sled loaded withunshaved hoop poles, and listened. The commercial drummer came out onthe porch. "Look here, you crazy coot, haven't I given you fair warning abouttongue-whaling me in public?" demanded the man who was pilloried. "'Behold, all they that are incensed against thee shall be ashamed andconfounded, '" quoted the Prophet, pounding his fist against the letteredbreast. "'They shall be as nothing; and they that strive with thee shallperish. '" Mr. Britt leaped off the porch, thrust the Prophet from his path, andstrode across the street toward the man in the door. The brother didnot lose his smile. He maintained his placid demeanor even when an angryfinger slashed through the air close under his nose. "I never intended to pass speech with you again, you renegade, " stormedTasper. "But I'm talking to-day for a town that I propose to representin the legislature, and I won't have it shamed any longer by a lunaticthat you're harboring. " Usial Britt lifted his eyebrows. "The legislature?" He puckered his lipsand whistled a few bars of "Hail to the Chief. " Candidate Britt waggled the monitory finger more energetically. "You aresheltering and ste'boying on a crazy man who is making the rest of thepeople in this town crazy. If they hadn't grown loony they'd ride himout over the line on a rail. " The Prophet had arrived at Britt's shoulder. "'But God has chose thefoolish things of the world to confound the wise; and God has chosen theweak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty. '" "I don't guarantee my guest's brains, " said the Britt in the door, "butI do vouch for the correctness of his memory when it comes to the matterof Gospel quotations. And a cracked record doesn't always spoil a goodtune. " "I'll have him in the lockup as a tramp, or on the poor farm as alunatic. " "You mean, that's where you would have him if the shelter of my roofdidn't give him legal protection, " returned Usial, calm in the face ofwrath. "'I was a stranger, and ye took me in, '" declaimed the Prophet. "And I'm keeping you on, " stated the cynical Usial, speaking for hisbrother's benefit, "because you're a self-operating, red-hot gad thatis helping me torment yon pirate with texts after I had run out of cusswords. Go ahead, Prophet! Shoot anything. It's a poor text that will nothit him some place. " Obediently, the fanatic began to mouth Holy Writ in orotund. TasperBritt raised his fist. But the devil himself shrinks before The Word. Britt did not strike. His face revealed his emotions; he could not bringhimself to assault this fountain of sacred aphorisms. He turned and marched away down the middle of the road, stamping hardinto the snow. One of the listeners was a man who came bearing a pair of shoes. UsialBritt took them from the man's hand. "You can have 'em to-morrow night. " "But there's only a little patch needed--" "To-morrow night, I said. I've got other business for to-day. " He wentinto the house and slammed the door. The Prophet set his umbrella over his head and went away on the trail ofEgypt's Pharaoh. CHAPTER III MORE COLLECTIONS There was a door in the middle of the facade of the low brick building;there were two windows on either side of the door. On the left-handwindows was painted in black letters, "Egypt Trust Company. " On theright-hand windows was painted, "T. Britt. " There was no legend toindicate what the business of T. Britt might be. None was required. Themere name carried full information for all Egypt. Mr. Britt glanced in at the left-hand windows as he approached the door. Cashier Frank Vaniman was sweeping out. When President Britt of the new Egypt Trust company went down toa business college in the city in search of a cashier, he quizzedcandidates in quest of what he termed "foolish notions. " Young Mr. Vaniman, who had supported himself ever since he was fourteen years old, and had done about everything in the ten years since then in the way ofwork, grabbing weeks or months for his schooling when he had a bit ofmoney ahead, passed the test very well, according to Mr. Britt's notion. Young Mr. Vaniman had secured a business education piecemeal, and was abit late in getting it, but Mr. Britt promptly perceived that the youngman had not been hung up by stupidity or sloth. So he hired Vaniman, finding him a strapping chap without foolish notions. Vaniman was cashier, receiving teller, paying teller, swept out, tendedthe furnace, and kept the books of the bank until Britt hired VonaHarnden for that job. Vona had been teaching school to help out herfolks, in the prevailing Egyptian famine in finance. But folks stopped paying taxes, and the town orders by the schoolcommittee on the treasurer were not honored; therefore, Vona gratefullytook a place in the bank when Mr. Britt called her into his office oneday and offered the job to her. He said that the work was getting tobe too much for Frank. That consideration for hired help impressed MissHarnden and she smiled very sweetly indeed, and Mr. Britt beamed back ather in a fashion that entirely disarranged for the rest of the daythe set look that he creased into his features before his mirror everymorning. Several clients took advantage of his blandness and renewednotes without paying the premium that Britt exacted when he loaned hisown money as a private venture. President Britt entered the door, but he did not go into the bank atonce. He marched along the corridor and unlocked his office and toastedhimself over the furnace register while he finished his cigar; Vanimanwas a good fireman and was always down early. Mr. Britt kept his earcocked; he knew well the tap of certain brisk boot heels that sounded inthe corridor every morning and he timed his movements accordingly. By being on the alert for sounds, he heard what did not comport with thecomfort of his office. Prophet Elias was engaged in his regularmorning tour of duty, picketing T. Britt's domains, giving an hour todeliverance of taunting texts before going abroad through the town onhis mission to the people with texts of comfort; the Prophet carriedplenty of penetrating, textual ammunition, but he carried poultices forthe spirit as well. Mr. Britt heard: "'Will he esteem thy riches? No, not gold, nor all theforces of strength. '" The usurer commented under his breath with remarks that were notscriptured. He threw away his cigar and went to a case where he keptsome law books which contained the statutes that were concernedwith money and debts and dependence; he had been hunting through thelegislative acts regarding vagrants and paupers and had been hopingto light on some legal twist that would serve him. The Prophet kept onproclaiming. But all at once he shifted from taunts about riches. Hisvoice was mellow with sincere feeling. Said the Prophet: "'Behold, thou art fair, my love; thou hast doves'eyes within thy locks. Thy teeth are like a flock of sheep which came upfrom the washing. Thy lips are like a thread of scarlet, and thy speechis comely. Thou art all fair, my love; there is no spot in thee. '" Mr. Britt did not wait in his office for the completion of thepanegyric. He knew well enough what arriving personage it heralded. Hehurried out into the corridor and faced the radiant girl who came infrom the sunshine. Even one who might question the Prophet's tact wouldnot have blamed his enthusiasm. "Vona, you swear out a warrant and I'll have him arrested, " stammeredthe employer. She checked a chirrup of laughter and her smile faded when she openedher eyes on Britt's sourness. "There's a law about hectoring and insulting a female person on thestreet--some kind of a law--and we'll invoke it in this case, " Brittinsisted. "Why, Mr. Britt, he's only a harmless old man with extremely poorjudgment about most things, including a girl's looks, " she protested. "Don't you call that gabble an insult to you, walking along and mindingyour own business?" His heat was alarming; he shook his fist to indicatethe Prophet. She was unable to restrain her demure smile. "The specifications, sir, are overflattering; but I'm sure I don't feel insulted. " In the past Britt had purred paternally in her presence and had staredat her in a way that often disconcerted her. Now his expression alarmedher. His face grew red. At first she thought he was embarrassed bythe reflection that he had been terming the Prophet's compliments aninsult--intimating that she had no claim to such compliments. But Mr. Britt did not bother to deal with that phase of the matter. The flamewas shifted from his face to his eyes; his cheeks grew pale. He triedto put his arm about her. She set her gloved hands against the arm andpushed it away, fright popping her eyelids wide apart. "I want to protect you, " Britt stuttered. "I don't want any harm ortrouble to come to you. " He stepped back and gazed at her imploringly. His abashed obedience, hispromptness in desisting, restored her self-possession immediately. Shehad the air of one who had misunderstood friendly interest. "Oh, Mr. Britt, I know you have a kind heart underneath your--I mean that folksdon't realize how good you are unless they are near to you, as Frankand I are. We often speak of it. " She hurried on. She opened the dooradmitting to the bank from the corridor and cheerily called her "Goodmorning!" to the cashier as she crossed the threshold. Mr. Britt stood in his tracks in the corridor after she closed the door. He stared at the floor with eyes that saw nothing. He slowly raisedhis hand and set his right index finger upon the toupee and scratchedmeditatively through the mesh--scratched carefully, having accustomedhimself to handling his boughten hair with cautious touch. He had notliked her intonation when she said "Frank and I. " He muttered somethingabout his feelings. He had never thought of Frank as belonging in Vona'scalculations. He had never considered even the linking of their names, much less their interests. But Mr. Britt, having made money his idol, could not understand worshipdirected to any other shrine. His face cleared while he pondered. A girlwho frankly declared at all times that she would do 'most anything tohelp her family out of their troubles was not of a mind to hitch up withanother pauper--a combination of choreman and cashier--even thoughshe had linked their names casually in speech. And Mr. Britt mouthedmumblingly some of the sentiments he had put into words that morningwhen he arose. He smoothed down the top piece and looked more at ease. He smiled when he reflected on what he would have to say to her afterEmissary Orne had returned with something in the line of fruits fromthe Promised Land. His self-assurance revived; nevertheless, he tiptoedalong the corridor and listened at the door of the bank. The reassuring swish of a broom and their casual chatter--he heard onlythose commonplace sounds! She was asking Vaniman if he had mislaid her dustcloth. Vaniman replied in a tone which indicated that the two were at somedistance from each other. There was no subdued conference--no murmuringof mushiness such as a meeting in the morning might be expected toelicit in case there was any sort of an understanding between them. Mr. Britt tiptoed away from the door and braced back his shoulders and gavehimself a shake of satisfied confidence, and went serenely into hisoffice, plucking a cigar from his vest pocket. By permitting himself tosmoke again he was breaking the habit of confining himself to one cigarafter breakfast. But many men in moments of exaltation seek tobacco oralcohol. Mr. Britt felt that he had broken the ice, at any rate. Mr. Brittdecided that the girl was heart-free and entertained sensible ideasabout the main chance--and she had had a good word to say about Britt'skind heart. Mr. Britt was sure that Frank Vaniman knew his place and waskeeping it. Therefore, Mr. Britt lighted a fresh cigar and blew visiblesmoke rings and inflated invisible mental bubbles and did not pay anymore attention to what Prophet Elias was saying outside. And as if theProphet had received a psychological hint that his text shafts were nolonger penetrating the money king's tough hide, the diminuendo of hisorotund marked the progress of his departure. Usually Mr. Britt went across into the bank and hung around after thegirl arrived. On this morning he stayed in his office. According to hisnotion, his advances to her in the corridor, though he had not intendedto be so precipitate in the matter, had given her something to thinkabout--and he decided to keep away and let her think. If she saw himfollowing the usual routine, her thoughts might drop back into routinechannels. He thrilled at the memory of her touch on his arm, even though the touchhad been a thrusting of her hands in self-defense and her eyes had beenbig with fright. He sat down at his desk and tore the leaf off his pad calendar, startinghis business day as usual. He looked at the disclosed date and his eyesbecame humid. It was February 14th, the day of St. Valentine. An ideacame to Mr. Britt. He had been wondering how to approach the questionwith Vona without blurting the thing and making a mess of it. Hedetermined to do something that he had not attempted since he had beauedHittie; he set himself to compose a few verses for a valentine--versesthat would pave the way for a formal declaration of his love and hishopes. The determination indicated that Mr. Britt was having a severe run ofa second attack of the same malady, and he acknowledged that much tohimself as he sat there and chewed the soggy end of an extinguishedcigar and gazed aloft raptly, seeking rhymes. He made slow progress; his pen trailed as sluggishly as a trackingsnail--a word at a time. He lost all notion of how the hours wereslipping past. A man walked in. He was Stickney, a cattle buyer, and a minorstockholder in the bank. Mr. Britt, his eyes filmy with prolongedabstraction, hooked his chin over his shoulder and scowled on theintruder; a man bringing business into that office that day was anintruder, according to Mr. Britt's opinion. Stickney walked close to the desk and displayed a flash of curiositywhen Britt laid his forearm over his writing. "Spring pome, or only a novel?" queried Stickney, genially, figuringthat such a question was the height of humor when put to a man of TasperBritt's flinty, practical nature. Mr. Britt, like a person touched smartly by a brad, twitched himself inhis chair and asked in chilly tone what he could do for Stickney. Thecaller promptly became considerable of an icicle himself. He laid down alittle sheaf of papers beside the shielding forearm. "If you'll O. K. Them notes for discount, I'll be much obliged, andwon't take up valuable time. " "We're tightening up on discounts--calling in many loans, too, " statedPresident Britt, with financial frigidity. "I know all about your calling loans, Mr. Britt. Much obliged. It makesa crackerjack market for me in the cattle business. They've got to raisemoney, and I'm setting my own prices. " Stickney thawed and beamedon Britt with a show of fraternal spirit, as if the banker were aco-conspirator in the job of shaking down the public. "However, my notesthere are all good butchers' paper--sound as a pennyroyal hymn! I've gotto have the cash so as to steal more cattle while the market is as itis. " Britt pushed away the notes and seized the opportunity to turn his ownpapers upside down on the desk. "We can't accommodate you at present, Stickney. " The customer stepped back and propped his palms on his hips. "I reckonI've got to call for an explanation. " "We're not in the habit of explaining the details of our business toindividuals. " Stickney slipped the leash on his indignation. "'We, ' say you? Allright! 'We' it is. I'm in on that 'we. ' I'm a stockholder in the bank. What sort of investments are 'we' making that have caused money to beso tight here that a regular customer is turned down--and after enoughloans have been called to make the vault bulge?" "The report will show, " returned Britt, coldly. "I am not called onto issue that report in installments every time a stockholder turns inhere. " The especial stockholder stepped forward and tapped his finger on thedesk. "I don't say that you are. But now that this subject is openedup--" "The subject is closed, Stickney. " "Now that the subject is opened up, " insisted the other man, "I'll makemention of what you probably know--that I have regular business 'mostevery day down in Levant at the railroad terminus. And I'm knowing to itthat regular shipments of specie have been coming to the bank. If thatspecie is in our vaults it ain't sweating off more gold and silver, isit, or drawing interest? I know you're a shrewd operator, Britt. I ain'tdoubting but what your plans may be good. " "They are!" President Britt's retort was crisp. "But when those plans put a crimp into _my_ plans--and me a steadycustomer--I'm opening my mouth to ask questions. " "You--and all other stockholders--will be fully informed by the annualreport--and will be pleased. " Britt's air was one of finality. "Let me tell you that the mouth I have opened to ask questions will stayopen in regard to hoarding that specie where it ain't drawing interest. " Britt jumped up and shook his fist under Stickney's snub nose. "Don'tyou dare to go blabbing around the country! You might as well set off abomb under our bank as to circulate news that will attract robbers. " "Bomb? Britt, I'm safe when I'm handled right, but if I'm handledwrong--" Stickney did not finish his sentence; but his truculent air waspregnant with suggestion. "Do you think you can blackmail me or this bank into making an exceptionin your case against our present policy? Go ahead and talk, Stickney, and I'll post the people of this town on your selfish tactics--andyou'll see where you get off!" Stickney did not argue the matter further. He looked like a man whowas disgusted because he had wasted so much time trying to get arounda Tasper Britt stony "No!" He picked up his papers, stamped out, andslammed the door. Britt shook himself, like a spiritualist medium trying to induce thetrance state, and went back to his writing. After a time a dull, thrumming sound attracted his attention. It wassomething like Files's dinner gong, whose summons Mr. Britt was wont toobey on the instant. Mr. Britt was certain that it was not the gong; however, he glancedup at the clock on the wall, then he leaped out of his chair. In hisamazement he rapped out, "Well, I'll be--" That clock was reliable; it marked the hour of twelve. Mr. Britt had received convincing evidence that the rhapsody ofcomposition makes morsels of hours and gulps days in two bites. But he had completed five stanzas. He concluded that they would do, though he had planned on five more. Glancing over his composition, hedecided that it might be better to leave the matter a bit vague, justas the poem left it at the end of the fifth stanza. In the corridor thatmorning Vona had shown that too much precipitateness alarmed her; hemight go too far in five more stanzas. The five he had completed wouldgive her a hint--something to think of. He pondered on that point whilehe stuck the paper into an envelope and sealed it. Mr. Britt hurried the rest of his movements; Files's kitchenconveniences were archaic, and the guest who was not on time got coldviands. The lover who had begun to stir Miss Harnden's thoughts into ratherunpleasant roiliness of doubts came hustling into the bank, hat and coaton. The girl and young Vaniman were spreading their respective lunches onthe center table inside the grille. Britt called Vona to the wicket. He slipped the envelope through to her. "There's no hurry, you understand! Take your time. Read it in a slackmoment--later! And"--he hesitated and gulped--"I want to see you afterbank hours. If you'll step in--I'll be much obliged. " She did not assent orally, nor show especial willingness to respond tohis invitation. She took the envelope and turned toward the table afterBritt had left the wicket. She walked to the window and gazed at the retreating back of Mr. Britt, and put the envelope into a velvet bag that was attached by slenderchains to her girdle. When she faced Vaniman, the young cashier was regarding her archly. "I wonder if congratulations are in order, " he suggested. Her quick flush was followed by a pallor that gave her an appearance ofanger. "I don't relish that sort of humor. " "My gracious, Vona, I wasn't trying to be especially humorous, " heprotested, staring at her so ingenuously that his candor could not bequestioned. "I reckoned that the boss was raising your pay, and wasbeing a bit sly about it! What else can it be?" Then she was truly disconcerted; at a loss for a reply; ashamed of herdisplay of emotion. He stared hard at her. His face began to show that he was strugglingwith an emotion of his own. "Vona, " he faltered, after a time, "Ihaven't any right to ask you--but do you have any--is that paper--" He was unable to go on under the straight and strange gaze she leveledat him. She was plainly one who was taking counsel with herself. Shecame to a sudden decision, and drew forth the envelope and tore it open, unfolded the paper, and began to read. When her eyes were not on him Vaniman revealed much of what a discerningperson would have known to be love; love that had been pursuing its wayquietly, but was now alarmed and up in arms. He narrowed his eyes andstudied her face while she read. But she did not reveal what she thoughtand he became more perturbed. She finished and looked across at him andthen she narrowed her eyes to match his expression. Suddenly she leanedforward and gave him the paper. He read it, amazement lifting hiseyebrows. When he met her stare again they were moved by a common impulse--mirth;mirth that was born out of their mutual amazement and was baptized bythe tears that their merriment squeezed from their eyes. "I am not laughing at Tasper Britt, " he gasped, checking his hilarity. "I would not laugh at any man who falls in love with you, Vona. I amlaughing at the idea of Tasper Britt writing poetry. Let me look outof the window! Has Burkett Hill tipped over? Has the sun turned in theheavens at high noon and started back to the east?" "What does it mean?" she asked. Her expression excused the banality ofher query; her eyes told him that she knew, but her ears awaited hisindorsement of her woman's conviction. He pointed to the big calendar on the wall. "It's a valentine, " he said, gravely. But the twinkle reappeared in his eyes when he added, "Andvalentines have always been used for prefaces in the volume of Love. " She did not reflect any of his amusement. She clasped her hands andgazed down on them, and her forehead was wrinkled with honest distress. "Of course, you have sort of been guessing, " he ventured. "All therenovating process--the way he has been tiptoeing around and squintingat you!" She looked up suddenly and caught his gaze; his tone had been hard, buthis eyes were tender. Then it happened! They had been hiding their deeper feelings under the thin coatingof comradeship for a long time. As in the instance of other pent-upexplosives, only the right kind of a jar was needed to "trip" the mass. The threat of a rival--even of such a preposterous rival as TasperBritt--served as detonator in the case of Frank Vaniman, and theexplosion of his emotions produced sympathetic results in the girlacross the table from him. He leaped up, strode around to her and putout his arms, and she rushed into the embrace he offered. But their mutual consolations were denied them--he was obliged to damback his choking speech and she her blessed tears. A depositor came stamping in. They were calm, with their customary check on emotions, when they werefree to talk after the man had gone away. "Vona, I did not mean to speak out to you so soon, " he told her. "Notbut what it was in here"--he patted his breast--"and fairly boiling allthe time!" She assured him, with a timid look, that her own emotions had not beendifferent from his. "But I have respected your obligations, " he went on, with earnestcandor. "And this is the first real job I've ever had. It's best to behonest with each other. " She agreed fervently. "I wish we could be just as honest with Britt. But we both know whatkind of a man he is. The sentiment of 'Love, and the world well lost' isbetter in a book than it is in this bank just now, as matters stand withus. I have had so many hard knocks in life that I know what they mean, and I want to save you from them. Isn't it best to go along as weare for a little while, till I can see my way to get my feet placedsomewhere else?" "We must do so, Frank--for the time being. " Her candor matched his. "Ido need this employment for the sake of my folks. Both of us must befair to ourselves--not silly. Only--" Her forehead wrinkled again. "I know, Vona! Britt's attentions! I'll take it on myself--" "No, " she broke in, with dignity. "I must make that my own affair. It can be easily settled. It's pure folly on his part. I'll make himunderstand it when I talk with him this afternoon. " "But I'll feel like a coward, " he protested, passionately. She put up her hand and smiled. "You're not a coward, dear! Nor am I ahypocrite. We're just two poor toilers who must do the best we can tillthe clouds clear away. " She went to him, and when her hands caressed his cheeks he bent down andkissed her. Then they applied themselves to their tasks in Mr. Britt's bank. CHAPTER IV THE ACHE OF RAPPED KNUCKLES Landlord Files set forth a boiled dinner that day; he skinched on cornedbeef and made up on cabbage; but he economized on fuel, and the cabbagewas underdone. Mr. Britt, back in his office, allowing his various affairs to bedigested--his dinner, his political project, the valentine--his hopesin general--found that soggy cabbage to be a particularly toughproposition. He was not sufficiently imaginative to view his punishmentby the intractable cabbage as a premonitory hint that he was destined tosuffer as much in his pride as he did in his stomach. His pangs took hismind off the other affairs. He was pallid and his lips were blue whenEmissary Orne came waddling into the office. Mr. Orne, in addition to other characteristics that suggested afowl, had a sagging dewlap, and the February nip had colored it intoresemblance to a rooster's wattles. When he came in Mr. Orne's face wassagging, in general. It was a countenance that was already ridged intoan expression of sympathy. When he set eyes on Britt the expression ofwoe was touched up with alarm. But that the alarm had to do with thepersonal affairs of Mr. Orne was shown when he inquired apprehensivelywhether Mr. Britt would settle then and there for the day's work. The candidate looked up at the office timepiece. "It ain't threeo'clock. I don't call it a day. " "You call it a day in banking. I've got the same right to call it a dayin politics. " "What infernal notion is afoul of you, Orne, grabbing for my moneybefore you report?" "I do business with a man according to his own rules--and then he'ssuited, or ought to be. You collect sharp on the dot after service hasbeen rendered. So do I. " Mr. Orne was displaying more acute nervousapprehension. "And the understanding was that you'd leave it to me asyour manager, and wouldn't go banging around, yourself. " Britt found the agent's manner puzzling. "I haven't been out of thisoffice, except to go to my dinner. I haven't talked politics withanybody. " "Oh!" remarked Orne, showing relief. "Perhaps, then, it was the way thelight fell on your face. " He peered closely at his client. Mr. Britt'scolor was coming back. Orne's cryptic speeches and his haste to collecthad warmed the banker's wrath. "It'll be ten dollars, as we agreed. " Britt yanked a big wallet from his breast pocket, plucked out a bill, and shoved it at Orne. The latter set the bill carefully into a bigwallet of his own, "sunk" the calfskin, and buttoned up his buffalocoat. "It does beat blazes, " stated "Sniffer" Orne, "what a messed up stateall politics is in since this prim'ry business has put the blinko ontocaucuses and conventions. Caucuses was sensible, Mr. Britt. Needn't tellme! Voters liked to have the wear and tear off 'em. Now a voter getsinto that booth and has to caucus by himself, and he's either so puffedup by importance that he thinks he's the whole party or else--" Mr. Britt's patience was ground between the millstones of anger andindigestion. He smacked the flat of his hand on his desk. "When I wanta stump speech out of you, Orne, I'll drop you a postcard and give youthirty days' notice so that you can get up a good one. You have made ashort day of it, as I said, but you needn't feel called on to fill it upwith a lecture. " Mr. Britt continued on pompously and revealed that heplaced his own favorable construction on the emissary's early returnfrom the field. "You didn't have to go very far, hey, to find out how Istand for that nomination?" "I went far enough so that you can depend on what I tell you. " "Go ahead and tell, then. " Mr. Orne slowly fished a quill toothpick from the pocket of hisovercoat, set the end of the quill in his mouth, and "sipped" the airsibilantly, gazing over Britt's head with professional gravity. "Ofcourse, you're the doctor in this case and are paying the money, and ifyou don't want any soothing facts, like I was intending to throw in freeof charge and for good measure, showing how the best of politicians--" There were ominous sounds from the direction of Britt. Orne checked hisdiscourse, but he did not look at the candidate. "But no matter, " saidthe agent. "That may be neither here nor there. You're the doctor, Isay! When I first came in here I thought you had been disobeying myorders and had dabbled into the thing. Your face looked like you wasposted. " "I'm paying for the goods, not for gobbling, you infernal old turkey!Come out with the facts!" "Facts is that the whole thing is completely gooly-washed up, " statedMr. Orne, with an oracle's decisiveness. But that declaration in Mr. Orne's political terminology did not conveymuch information to the candidate. Britt, thoroughly incensed by whatseemed to be evasion, leaped up, twitched the toothpick from Orne'slips, and flung it away. "I've paid for the English language, and I wantit straight and in short words, and not trigged by a toothpick. " "All right! You're licked before you start. " It was a bit too straight from the shoulder--that piece of news! Brittblinked as if he had received a blow between the eyes. He sat down andstared at Orne, elbows on the arms of the chair, hands limply hangingfrom lax wrists. "It's this way!" Mr. Orne started, briskly, with upraised forefinger;but he shook his head and put down his hand. He turned away. "I forgot. You ordered plain facts. " "You hold on!" Britt thundered. "How do you dare to tell me that you cango out and in fifteen minutes come back with information of that sort?" Mr. Orne glanced reproachfully from his detractor to the clock; he hadnot the same reasons as Mr. Britt had for finding the hours of the dayfleeting. "Mr. Britt, a man doesn't need to make a hoss of himself andeat a whole head of cabbage by way of sampling it. " Britt winced at therandom simile. "It's the same way with me in sampling politics, being anexpert. Your case, to start with, had me gy-poogled and--" "English language, I tell you!" Britt emphasized his stand as a sticklerby a tremendous thump of his fist on the desk. Orne jabbed his finger back and forth from his breast to the directionof Britt, with the motions of the "eeny, meeny" game. "I was mistook. You was mistook. I figgered on your money. So did you. I figgered you'dgo strong in politics like you had in _finance_. So did you. " Mr. Orneput his hand up sidewise and sliced the air. "Nothing doing in politics, Mr. Britt! You can cash in on straight capital, but there ain't a centin the dollar for you when you try to collect in what you 'ain't everinvested. A man don't have to be so blamed popular after he is wellsettled in politics; but you've got to have some real human-natureassets to get a start with. You've got to depend on given votes--not theboughten ones. " "Orne, you're rasping me mighty hard. " "You demanded facts--not hair-oil talk. " "Then the facts are--" Britt hesitated. "Facts is that, by the usual arrangement in the legislative class oftowns, Egypt had the choice this year. You won't get a vote in Egypt. " "But the men who come in here--" Again Britt halted in a sentence. "The men who come in here and sit down at that desk and pick up a pento sign a note have fixed on their grins before they open your door. Butthe men who get into a voting booth alone with God and a lead pencil, they'll jab down on to that ballot a cross for t'other candidate that'lllook like a dent in a tin dipper. Somebody else might lie to you aboutthe situation, Mr. Britt. I've done consid'able lying in politics, too. But when I'm hired by a man to deliver goods--and same has been paidfor--my word can be depended on. " Britt turned around and looked into the depths of his desk, staringvacantly. His rounded shoulders suggested grief. Orne settled his walletmore firmly, pressing on the outside of the buffalo coat. His face againsagged with sympathy. "Mr. Britt, it's only like what most of us do inthis life--take smiles without testing 'em with acid--take words-currentfor what they seem to be worth, and then we do test 'em out and--" Britt whirled and broke on this fatuous preachment with an oath. Mr. Orne thriftily withheld further sympathy; it was plainly wasted. "Orne, I hope it's about due to revise the New Testament again. Iwant to send in some footnotes for that page where Judas Iscariot ismentioned. I want a full roster of his descendants to appear; I'llfurnish the voting list of this town. Get out of here and pass thatword. " But a yelp from the candidate halted the departing Orne at thedoor. "Seeing that you have my ten dollars and are full of politicalinformation, perhaps you'll throw in free of charge who it is this townis going to send to the legislature!" "Only one thing has been decided on so far, " returned the politician. "And, having no desire to rub it in, I'll let you draw your ownconclusions. " Mr. Orne had the door open; he dodged out and slammed thedoor shut. It was promptly opened--so promptly that Mr. Britt was fairly caught atwhat he was about. He was standing up, shaking both fists at the doorand cursing roundly. Vona was gazing at him in alarm. "I was waiting in the corridor, sir, till you--till your business--tillMr. Orne went away, " she stammered. "Come in!" muttered Britt, even more disconcerted than the girl. Then he wished that he had told her to go away. He realized that he wasin no mood or condition to woo; the cabbage had tortured him, but thisnew sort of indigestion in the very soul of him had left him withoutpoise or courage. He slumped down in his chair and waved a limp hand in invitation for herto take a seat near him. But she merely came and stood in the middle ofthe room and surveyed him with an uncompromising air of business. Fromthe velvet toque, with just a suggestion of a coquettish cant on herbrown curls, down her healthily round cheeks, a bit flushed, above thefur neckpiece that clasped her throat, Britt's fervent eyes strayed. Andsome of the words of the Prophet's singsong monotone echoed in the emptychambers of Britt's consciousness, "'Thou hast dove's eyes within thylocks--thy lips are like a thread of scarlet. '" But she was aloof. She held herself rigidly erect. Her eyes were coldlyinquiring. Those lips were set tightly. Mr. Britt had just been reachingout for honors, and his knuckles had been rapped cruelly. He wanted toreach out for love--and he dared not. The girl, as she stood there, wasso patently among the things he was not able to possess! She had come into his presence with expectation keenly alert, with herfears putting her into a mental posture of defense. She felt that sheknew just what was going to happen, and she was assuring herself thatshe would be able to meet the situation. But she was not prepared forwhat did happen. She did not understand Britt's mental state of thatmoment. Mr. Britt, himself, did not understand. He had never been upagainst conditions of that sort. He had not had time to fix his face andhis mood, as he did daily before the mirror in his bedroom. He did whatnobody had ever seen him do--what neither he nor the girl would havepredicted one minute before as among human probabilities--he broke downand blubbered like a whipped urchin. And after he had recovered some of his composure and was gazing up ather again, sniffling and scrubbing his reddened eyes with the bulgeat the base of his thumb, knowing that he must say something by wayof legitimate excuse, dreading the ridicule that a girl's gossip mightbring upon him, a notion that was characteristic of Mr. Britt cameto him: he grimly weighed the idea of telling her that Files's boileddinner was the cause of his breakdown. However, in his weakness, hislove flamed more hotly than ever before. "Vona, I'm so lonesome!" he gulped. Miss Harnden had entered behind her shield, nerved like a battlingAmazon. She promptly lowered that shield and became all woman, with awoman's instinctive sympathetic understanding, but womanlike, she tookthe opportunity to introduce for her own defense a bit of guile with hersympathy. "I quite understand how you feel about the loss of Mrs. Britt, sir. And I'm glad because you remain so loyal to her memory. " Mr. Britt, like a man who had received a dipperful of cold water in theface, backed away from anything like a proposal at that unpropitiousmoment. But in all his arid nature he felt the need of some sort ofconsolation from a feminine source. "Vona, I've just had a terriblesetback, " he mourned. "There's only one other disappointment that couldbe any worse--and I don't dare to think of that right now. " Miss Harnden apprehensively proceeded to keep him away from theprospective disappointment, dwelling on the present, asking himsolicitously what had happened. He told her of his ambition and of what Ossian Orne had reported. "But why should that be so very important for a man like you--to go tothe legislature--Mr. Britt?" He opened his mouth, hankering to blurt out what he had been treasuringas dreams whose realization would serve as an inducement to her. He hadbeen picturing to himself their honeymoon at the state capital, awayfrom the captious tongues of Egypt--how he would stalk with his handsomebride into the dining room of the capital's biggest hotel; how she wouldattract the eyes of jealous men, in her finery and with her jewels; howshe would sit in the gallery at the State House and survey him makinghis bigness among the lawmakers; for some weeks he had been laboring onthe composition of a speech that he intended to deliver. But her seconddash of cold water kept him from the disclosure of his feelings. Hewent on so far as to ask her if she did not think a session at the statecapital would be interesting. "I have never thought anything about such a matter, of course, Mr. Britt, being only a girl and not a politician. " "But women who are there get into high society and wear fine clothes andhave a grand time, Vona. " "It must be a tedious life, " she replied, indifferently. "Wouldn't you like to try it?" Now that he could not offer her the grandinducement he had planned as an essential part of his campaign of lovehe sought consolation in her assurance that the prospect did not tempther. His hopes revived. He was reflecting that his money could buyrailroad tickets, even if he had not the popularity with which to winvotes. She shook her head promptly when he asked the question, and hewent on with his new idea. "I suppose what a girl really enjoys is tosee the world, after she has been penned up all her life in a town likethis. " "I don't waste my time in foolish longings, Mr. Britt. In fact, I haveno time to waste on anything. " She gave him a bit of a smile. "In thatconnection I'll confess that I must hurry home and help mother with somesewing. Did you want anything especial of me?" Her smile had vanished, and in her tone there was a clink of the metallic that was as subtlysuggestive of "On guard" as the click of a trigger. Mr. Britt had planned upon a radiant disclosing of hisprojects--expecting to be spurred in his advances by the assurance ofwhat he could offer her as the consort of a legislator--as high an honoras his narrow vision could compass. She had found him cursing, hadkept him at bay, and he had already had evidence of the danger ofprecipitateness in her case. And his tears made him feel foolish. Hisardor had been wet down; it took a back seat. His natural good judgmentwas again boss of the situation. "I had something on my mind--but it can wait till you're in less of ahurry, Vona. Never neglect a mother. That's my attitude toward women. I'm always considerate where they're concerned. It's my nature. I hopeyou'll hold that in mind. " "Yes, Mr. Britt. " She turned and hurried to the door, getting away froma fire that was showing signs of breaking out of its smoldering brandsonce more. Britt recovered some of his courage when her back was turned. "Youhaven't said anything about those verses, " he stammered. "I think it's a beautiful way of putting aside your business cares for atime. I'm taking them home to read to mother. " He marched to the window and watched her as long as she was in sight. Then he glowered on such of the Egyptians as passed to and fro alongthe street on their affairs. He muttered, spicing his comments withprofanity. The girl's disclaimer of personal interest in Britt'sambitions did not soften his rancorous determination to make the votersof Egypt suffer for the stand they had taken--suffer to the bitter limitto which unrelenting persecution could drive them. He gritted his teethand raved aloud. "From now on! From now on! Anything short of murder toshow 'em! And as for that girl--if there's somebody--" Britt stopped short of what that rival might expect, but his expressionindicated that the matter was of even more moment than his affair withthe voters of the town. CHAPTER V "AND PHARAOH'S HEART WAS HARDENED" When Vona left him that afternoon, Vaniman paced the floor. She had gone bravely to her meeting with Britt, bearing Frank's kiss onher cheek--a caress of encouragement when he had walked with her to thedoor in order to lock it after her. It was not worry that caused him to tramp to and fro, frowning. Vona'sdemeanor of self-reliance had helped his feelings a great deal. But thecorollary of devoted love is chivalry, and he felt that he was allowingher to do something that belonged to him to so, somehow. The policywhich they had so sanely discussed did not seem to be such a comfortablecourse when he was alone, wondering what was going on across thecorridor. At last the sound of a door and the click of her heels signaled theend of the interview. He hoped that she would come back into the bank, making an excuse of something forgotten, in order to give him a soothingbulletin. He ran to the door and opened it. But the slam of the outsidedoor informed him that she had gone on her way. Her prompt departureindicated that she was consistently pursuing the level-headed policythey had adopted; but the young man, impatient and wondering, waswishing she had taken a change, for once, even to the prejudice ofpolicy. He shut his door and hurried to the window. Though two men were watching her going-away, and though she must havebeen conscious of the fact, she did not turn her head to glance behindher. At any rate, the thing was over, whatever had happened, the cashierreflected with relief. Nevertheless, curiosity was nagging at him; hefelt an impulse to go in and inspect the condition of Tasper Britt byway of securing a hint. Vaniman, however, shook his head and dropped into the routine of hisduties. The ruts of life in Egypt, especially in the winter, weredeep ones. The cashier had become contented with his little circle ofoccupation and recreation. He carried the books into the vault. He wound the clock that controlledthe mechanism of bolts and bars, and pushed the big outer door shut andmade certain that it was secure. Having finished as cashier, he became janitor. Egypt had no electric lights. Vaniman trimmed the kerosene reflectorlamp and set it on the table so that the front of the safe would beilluminated for the benefit of the village's night watchman. Then he put on his cap and overcoat and locked the grille door and thebank door after he had passed each portal. His last chore of the day wasalways a trip into the basement to make sure that the dying fire in thewood furnace was carefully closed in for the night. The basement stairs led from the rear of the corridor. When Vanimanreturned up the stairs he had settled on a small matter of businesswhich would serve as a valid excuse for entering the presence ofPresident Britt. But he did not need to employ the excuse. Britt stoodin his open door and called to the cashier and walked back to his chair, leaving Vaniman to follow, and the employee obeyed the summons withalacrity; he was consumed with desire to get a line on the situationthat had been troubling him. An observer would have called the contest of mutual inspection afifty-fifty break--perhaps with a shade in favor of Britt, for theusurer's face was like leather and his goggling marbles of eyes underthe lids that resembled little tents did not flicker. "What can I do for you?" Britt demanded, and the query made for theyoung man's discomposure. "Why, you called me in, sir!" "Uh-huh!" the president admitted, "but somehow I had the impressionthat you said you wanted to see me after the bank closed. " He was takingaccount of stock of Vaniman's personality, his eyes going up and downthe stalwart figure and dwelling finally and persistently on the youngman's hair; it was copper-bronze in hue, it had an attractive wave, there was plenty of it, and it seemed to be very firmly rooted. "I don't remember that I mentioned it, Mr. Britt, but I do have anerrand with you. " "All right! What is it?" Mr. Britt was not revealing any emotions thatVaniman found illuminating in regard to his particular quest. "I am being tongue-lashed terribly through the wicket. Men won't believethat I'm obeying the orders of you and the board when accommodation isrefused. Won't you take the matter off my hands--let me refer all toyou?" "I don't keep a dog and do my own barking, " rasped the president. Hebrought his eyes down from the young man's hair and noted that Vanimanstiffened and was displaying resentment. "That's only a Yankee motto--you needn't take it as personal, Vaniman. I have turned over to you the running of the bank. I say to all thatyou're running it. You ought to feel pretty well set up!" "I obey your orders, sir, " returned the cashier, not warming. "That's all right for an understanding between us two. But I let thepublic think you're the whole thing. I tell 'em I've got full confidencein you. You don't want the public to think you're only a rubber stamp, do you?" "The general opinion right now seems to be that I'm either a first-classliar or Shylock sentenced to a second term on earth, " retorted Vaniman, with bitterness. There was a long silence in the room, where the early dusk wasdeepening. The two men regarded each other with expressions that did notsoften. After a time Britt turned to his desk, unlocked a compartment, andproduced a letter, which he unfolded slowly, again staring hard at thecashier. "Speaking of being sentenced!" There was something ominous in his drawl. "You told me a whole lot about yourself, Vaniman, when I was talking ofhiring you. But there was one important thing you didn't mention--mightyimportant, seeing that you wanted a job as boss of a bank. " He tappedthe open letter. "I've had this letter for a good many weeks, not sayinganything about it to you or anybody else. I'm not sure just why I'msaying anything now. " Vaniman flushed. His face worked with emotion. He put up his hand andstarted to speak, but Britt put up a more compelling hand and went on. "I reckon I'm bringing this matter up so that you'll know just whereyou stand--so that you'll mind your eye and look out for my interestsin every way from now on--so that--" He hesitated a moment. His eyesflamed. "So that you'll know your place! That's it! Know your place--andbe mighty careful how you go against me in anything--anything where I'minterested. " Britt had whipped himself into anger. That anger, fanned bya flame of jealousy after it had been touched off by his inspection ofyouth and good looks, had carried Mr. Britt far. He shook the letter atthe young man. "There's a reliable name signed to this letter; he is afriend of mine, one of the big financiers in the city, and this was inthe way of friendly warning. " "I understand, Mr. Britt. " The cashier had recovered hisself-possession. "You are warned that my father was sentenced to thepenitentiary for embezzlement. No, I did not mention that to you. Itconcerned a man who is dead. It has nothing to do with my honesty. " "Well, there's another motto about 'blood will tell, '" sneered Britt. Vaniman stepped forward, honestly indignant, manfully resolute. "Letme tell you, sir, that the letter you hold there--no matter who wroteit--concerns a _good_ man who is dead. He was the scapegoat of one ofthose big financiers. " Vaniman's lip curled. "My father was railroadedto jail on a track greased with lies--and died because the heart hadbeen ripped out of him and--" "Hold on! It won't get us anywhere to try that case all over, Vaniman. Let the letter stand as it is--it was probably meant in the rightspirit. But I didn't write it. You and I better not fight over it. I'veshown, by laying it away and saying nothing, that I have a decent naturein me. I hope I'll never have any need to take it out of this deskagain. " He turned and shoved the paper back and locked the compartment. "I think it is best for me to resign, Mr. Britt. " "Don't be a fool, young man. Now that this thing is off our mindsthere's a better understanding between us than ever. I don't think--Ihope"--he surveyed Vaniman with leisure in which there was thesuggestion of a threat--"I'll never have any occasion to take thatletter out again. Er--ah--" Britt joggled a watch charm and inquired, casually, "Would you plan on getting married if I boost your wages alittle?" In spite of an effort to control himself under Britt's basilisk stare, Vaniman showed how much the query had jumped him. "Of course, a chap like you has had his sweetheart down in the city, "pursued the inquisitor when the young man failed to answer. "Must be onethere now. " "I have no sweetheart in the city, Mr. Britt. " Then there was a longer silence in the room. The cashier was notenduring inspection with an air that did credit to his promise to keep asecret. Britt had made a breach in the wall of Vaniman's mental defenseby the means of that letter and its implied accusation; Britt was takingadvantage of that breach. Right then the young man was in a mood thatwould have prompted him to fling the truth and his defiance at Britt ifthe latter had kept on to the logical conclusion of his interrogationand had asked whether there was a sweetheart elsewhere; Vaniman hadthe feeling that by denying his love at that moment--to that man of allothers--he would be dealing insult to Vona Harnden, as well as takingfrom her the protection that his affection gave her. The attention of Britt was diverted from the quarry he was pursuing. Outside Britt Block, Prophet Elias raised his voice in his regular"vesper service. " It was his practice, on his way to Usial Britt'scottage from his daily domiciliary visits, to halt in front of the bankand deliver a few texts. The first one--and the two men in the officelistened--was of the general tenor of those addressed to "Pharaoh. "Said the Prophet, in resounding tones, "'As a roaring lion and a rangingbear, so is a wicked ruler over the poor people. '" "Vaniman, go out and tell that old hoot owl to move on! I'm in adangerous frame of mind to-day. " Britt's lips were pulled tightlyagainst his yellow teeth. The Prophet's next deliverance was more concretely to thepoint--indicating that the exhorter was not so much wrapped up inreligion that he had no ear out for the political news current in Egyptthat day, "'Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit beforea fall. '" There was a fireplace in the office and Britt leaped to it and grabbeda poker. The cashier was moved to interfere, urged by two compellingmotives. He wanted to get away from his own dangerous situation of themoment in that office--and he wanted to protect the old man outsidefrom assault. "I'll attend to him, sir!" But he halted at the door andturned. "Mr. Britt, our talk has driven an important matter from mymind. The men who bellow at me through the wicket have considerable tosay about our hoarding specie. It makes me uneasy to have that sort ofgossip going the rounds. " "We'll have the money out of here in a short time, Vaniman, as I havetold you. That broker says that foreign money is going lower yet--andseeing that we've taken all this trouble to get the hard cash ready forthe deal, we may as well make the clean-up as big as we can. " "Don't you think we'd better hire a couple of good men with rifles andput 'em in the bank nights, sir?" President Britt declared with scorn that the expense was not necessary, that putting guards in the bank would only start more talk, and thatit also would be essential to hire old Ike Jones to sit in front ofthe vault and play all night on his trombone to keep awake any twomen picked from Egypt. While Britt was expressing his opinion ofinefficiency and expense, the Prophet was furnishing this obbligatooutside, "'He that by usury and unjust gain increaseth his substance, heshall gather it for him that will pity the poor. '" Vaniman closed the door on Britt's objurgations. The young man did not find it necessary to prevail upon the Prophet togive over his discourse. As soon as the emissary appeared Elias foldedhis ample umbrella, tucked it under his arm, gave Vaniman a friendlygreeting, and winked at him. The twilight dimmed the seamed face andthe young man wondered whether he had been mistaken about the slysuggestiveness of that wink. "Joseph, how doth Pharaoh rest on his throne? Doth he sit easy?" Always in their brief but good-natured interviews the evangelist calledthe young man "Joseph. " Elias took Vaniman's arm and walked along withhim. "I'm afraid, Prophet Elias, that you'll provoke Mr. Britt too far. Takemy advice. Keep away from him for a time. " "'There be three things which are too wonderful for me, yeah, four whichI know not: the way of an eagle in the air, the way of a serpent upona rock, the way of a ship in the midst of the sea, and the way of a manwith a maid, '" said the Prophet, placidly. "Furthermore, 'The proud havedigged pits for me. ' Joseph, the pitfalls encompass thee. " Vaniman refrained from making a reply; the Prophet was displaying anembarrassing amount of sapience as to conditions. In front of Usial Britt's cot they halted and the eccentric leaned closeto Vaniman's ear. "Joseph, my son, keep thine eye peeled. " He releasedthe cashier's arm and strode to the door of Usial's house. Vaniman, delaying his departure, noted that the door did not give waywhen the Prophet wrenched at the knob. The guest banged his fist againsta panel. "Let it be opened unto me!" he shouted. His voice served as his guaranty; Usial Britt opened the door andslammed it shut so suddenly after the Prophet had entered that it wasnecessary to reopen the portal and release the tail of Elias's robe. CHAPTER VI "THE HORNET" GOES TO PRESS Vaniman did not go on his way at once, though, by his daily routine, hewas headed toward his bit of recreation which cheered the end of hisday of occupation. Every afternoon he dropped in at the office of NotaryAmos Hexter--"Squire" Hexter, the folks of Egypt called him--and playedeuchre with the amiable old chap. After the euchre, the Squire and Franktrudged over to the Hexter home; the cashier boarded with the Squire andhis wife, Xoa. In his general uneasiness, in his hankering for any sort of informationthat would help his affairs, the young man was tempted to follow theprovocative Elias and pin him down to something definite; the flashes ofshrewd sanity in the fanatic's mouthings had encouraged Frank to believethat the Prophet was not quite as much of an ingenuous lunatic as hisgab and garb suggested. Right away, curiosity of another sort added its impulse. Usial's windows were uncurtained, though the grime on them helped toconceal activities within by a sort of ground-glass effect. But Vanimancould see well enough to understand what was going on. Every once in awhile a canvas flap came over in a half circle across Vaniman's lineof vision through one of the windows. Then a hairy arm turned a crankbriskly; a moment later the arm pulled at a horizontal bar with vigor. It was plain that Usial Britt was printing. Vaniman had seen the shoemaker's printing equipment in common witheverybody else who dropped into the shop. There were a few cases of worntype; there was a venerable Washington hand press. Vaniman had even beendown on his knees, by Usial's invitation, and had peered up at the undersurface of the imposing stone. When Tasper Britt wanted a burial lot in the Egypt cemetery of a sizesufficient to set off his statue in good shape, he secured a hillock inwhich some of the patriarchs of the pioneers had been interred. Therewas no known descendants to say him nay. A fallen slate slab that hadbeen long concealed in the tangled grass was tossed over the cemeteryfence by the men who cleared up the hillock. Usial Britt considered theslab a legitimate find and with it replaced a marble imposing stonethat had become gouged and cracked. Vaniman had found the inscriptioninteresting when he knelt and peered up: Here Lies the Body of THOSPIT WAGG, In Politics a Whig. By Occupation a Cooper in a Hoop-pole Town. Now Food for Worms. Here I Lie, Like an Old Rum Puncheon, Marked, Numbered and Shooked, To be Raised at Last and Finished by the Hand of My Maker. As Egypt knew, Usial Britt did not print for profit. He accepted no payof any sort for the product of his press. When the spirit moved, or hefelt that the occasion demanded comment in print, he "stuck" theworn type, composing directly from the case without first putting histhoughts on paper, and printed and issued a sheet which he titled _TheHornet_. Sometimes _The Hornet_ buzzed blandly--more often it stungsavagely. Vaniman obeyed his impulse; he went to the door and knocked. He hadalways found Usial Britt in a sociable mood. "Who is it?" inquired the shoemaker. "Vaniman of the bank. " "Leave your job, whatever it is, on the threshold, sir. " "I am not bringing you any work, Mr. Britt. " "Then kindly pass on; I'm in executive session, sir. " The grumble of the cogs and the squeak of the press went on. So did Vaniman, after he had waited at the door for a few moments. Squire Hexter had a corner of his table cleaned of paper litter, inreadiness for the euchre game. He was tilted back in his chair, smoking his blackened T. D. Pipe, and aswinging boot was scraping to and fro along the spine of a fuzzy old dogwhose head was meditatively lowered while he enjoyed the scratching. The Squire called the old dog "Eli"; that name gave Hexter a frequentopportunity to turn his little joke about having owned another dog thathe called "Uli" and presented to a brother lawyer as an appropriategift. The Squire had little dabs of whiskers on his cheeks like fluffs ofcotton batting, and his wide mouth linked those dabs when he smiled. He came forward promptly in his chair, slapped his palm on the waitingpack of cards, and cut for the deal while Vaniman was throwing off hiscoat. "Judging by signs, as I came past Britt's shop, _The Hornet_ is gettingready to buzz again, " said the cashier. "Aye! I reckoned as much. I have looked across there from time to timeto-day and have seen customers knocking in vain on the door. It's yourdeal, boy!" Vaniman shuffled obediently. "And there was a run-in this morning between your boss and his brother, "observed the Squire, scratching a match. "And Eli, here, called myattention to the fact that two sun dogs, strangers to him, were chasingalong with the sun all the forenoon. Signs of trouble, boy--sure signs!"He sorted his cards. It was more of the Squire's regular line of humorto ascribe to Eli various sorts of comment and counsel. "How crazy do you think Prophet Elias is?" inquired the young man, avoiding further reference to his employer. "After listening many times to the testimony of expert alienists incourt trials I have come to the conclusion that all the folks in theworld are crazy, son, or else nobody is ever crazy. I don't think I'llexpress any opinion on the Prophet. I might find myself qualifying as analienist expert. I'd hate to!" After that mild rebuff Vaniman gave all his mind to the game--for whenthe Squire played euchre he wanted to attend strictly to the businessin hand. And in the span of time between dusk and supper the two wererarely interrupted. But on this afternoon they were out of luck. Men came tramping up the screaking outside stairs that conducted to theoffice; the Squire had a room over Ward's general store. The men were led into the office by Isaac Jones--"Gid-dap Ike, " he wasnamed--the driver of the mail stage between Egypt and the railroad atLevant. For a moment Squire Hexter looked really alarmed. There were halfa dozen men in the party and he was not accustomed to irruptions ofnumbers. Then his greeting smile linked his whisker tufts. Mr. Jones andhis party pulled off their hats and by their demeanor of awkward dignitystood convicted as being members of a delegation formally presentingthemselves. "Hullo, boys! Have chairs. Excuse the momentary hesitation. I was afraidyou had come after me with a soaped rope. " "I reckon we won't set, " stated Mr. Jones. "And we'll be straight and tothe point, seeing that a game is on. Squire Hexter, me and these gentsrepresent the voters of Egypt. We ask you to accept the nomination tothe legislature from this town for next session. So say I. " "So say we all!" chorused the other men. The Squire set the thumb and forefinger of each hand into a whiskerfluff and twisted a couple of spills, squinting at them. "The complimentis esteemed, boys. But the previousness is perplexing. This is February, and the primaries are not till June. " "Squire Hexter, it ain't too early to show a man in this town where hegets off. That man is Tasper Britt. He has had ten dollars' worth oftelling to-day by 'Sniffer' Orne. But telling ain't showing. What do yousay?" The Squire gave Jones a whimsical wink and indicated the attentiveVaniman with a jab of the thumb. "S-s-sh! Look out, or the rate ofinterest will go up. " Jones and his associates scowled at the cashier, and Vaniman understoodwith added bitterness the extent of his vicarious atonement as Britt'smouthpiece at the wicket of the bank. "The interest-payers of this town have been well dreened. But thevoters--the _voters_, understand, still have assets. The voters have gotto the point where they ain't afraid of Tasper Britt. The cashier ofhis bank can so report to him, if the said cashier so chooses--and, ascashier, probably will. " "The cashier will attend strictly and exclusively to his bank duties, and to nothing else, " declared Vaniman, with heat. "Hope you're enjoying 'em, such as they are of late, " Jones retorted. "But once again, what say, Squire Hexter?" "Boys, you'd better get somebody else to sandpaper Tasper Britt with. I'm not gritty enough. " "I'll come across with our full idea, Squire. It ain't simply tosandpaper Britt with that we want you to go. But we need some kind oflegislation to help this town out of the hole. We don't know where weare. We can't raise money to pay state taxes, and we ain't getting ourschool money from the state, nor any share of the roads appropriation, nor--" "I know, Ike, " broke in the Squire, not requiring any legal posting froma layman. "But it's the lobbyist, instead of the legislator, who reallycounts at the state capital. I've been planning to do a little lobbyingat the next session. I'll tell you now that I'll go, and, by hooking aclean collar around each ankle under my socks, I'll be prepared for atwo weeks' stay. Send somebody else to work for the state and I'll goand work for Egypt. " "The voters want you, " Jones insisted. The Squire rapped his toe against the old dog at his feet. "What say, Eli?" "Wuff!" the dog replied, emphatically. "Can't go as a legislator, boys! Eli says 'No. '" "This ain't no time for joking, " growled the spokesman. "Certainly not!" The Squire snapped back his retort briskly. He wasserious. "I agree with you that this poor old town needs help and ahearing. But when I go to the State House I propose to wear out shoeleather instead of pants cloth. If you must rasp Britt, go get a realfile!" "Who in the blazes can we get?" demanded Jones, helplessly. The Squire laid down the hand of cards which he had just picked up, thussignaling the end of the interview, impatiently motioning to Vaniman toplay; then the notary narrowed his eyes and pondered. The silence was broken by more screaking of the outside stairs. Prophet Elias stalked into the office. He carried limp, damp sheetsacross a forearm--papers that had been well wet down in order to takeimpressions from the Washington press. The men in the room waited forone of his sonorous promulgations of biblical truth. But he said noword, and his silence was more impressive because it was unwonted. Hemarched straight to the Squire and gave him one of the sheets. Thenthe Prophet turned and strode toward the door. Jones put out his hand, asking for one of the papers. Elias shook his head. "Yon scribe has avoice. Let him read aloud. I have but few papers--they must be spentthriftily. " He passed on and went out. "One of the city newspapers ought to hire him for a newsboy, " remarkedMr. Jones, acridly. "He could scare up a big circulation. " The only light in the dim room was afforded by the big lamp at theSquire's elbow. He spread the sheet on the table in the lamp's circle ofradiance. "Boys, _The Hornet_ is out and it looks as if it has a barb inits stinger, " he stated, and then paused while he fixed his spectaclesupon his nose. Vaniman, sitting close by, felt that a glance at a public sheet was notinvading privacy. A smutted heading in wood type was smeared across the top of the page. It counseled: VOTE FOR BRITT. GIVE PHARAOH HIS KINGLY CROWN There was a broad, blank space in one of the upper corners of the sheet. Under the space was this explanation: Portrait of Tasper Britt, with his latest improvements. But, on secondthought, out of regard for the feelings of our readers, we omit theportrait. The Squire, getting control of emotions which the observing Jones andhis associates noted with rising interest, demurely explained to themthe layout of the page after he had carefully inspected the sheet. Then Squire Hexter began to read aloud, in a tone whose twist of satiregave the text its full flavor: "We hasten to proclaim in the land of Egypt that Pharaoh Britt hasreached for the scepter, though he had not loosed his grip on the gouge. You will know him here and hereafter by his everlasting grip on thegouge. He will take that gouge to Tophet with him. Then it will beheated red-hot and he will prance around hell astraddle of it. But inthe meantime he is hot after the honors of this world. Give him hiscrown, say we. He has prepared a nice, new hair mattress on his browwhere the diadem will rest easy. Under his coat of arms--to wit, ayellow he-goat rampant in a field of purple thistles--let him write theword 'Victory. '" The men in that room were Yankees, with a sense of humor as keen as anew bush scythe. The Squire sat back and wiped his spectacles and beamed on theirlaughter. Then he read on down the column, through the biting satire tothe bitter end, having an audience whose hilarity would have delighted avaudeville performer's soul. Therefore, it was with inspired unction that the reader delivered the"tag lines" of the screed. "We confess that we have a selfish purpose in paying this affectionate, brotherly tribute to Pharaoh. When he has deigned to refer to us inthe past he has called us 'Useless' Britt. Now, if this tribute has theeffect that we devoutly hope for, Pharaoh may be of a mind to give usback our right name. We ask nothing else in the way of recompense. " The Squire folded the paper carefully and put it away in his breastpocket with the manner of one caching a treasure. "Boys, what are youwaiting for?" he inquired, with an affectation of surprise. Their wide grins narrowed into the creases of wonderment of their own. Hexter patted his breast where he had stowed away the paper. "Egypt hasa literary light, a journalist who wields a pen of power, a shoemakerphilosopher. And modest--not grasping! See how little he asks forhimself. Why not give him a real present? Why not--" Spokesman Jones perceived what the counsel was aiming at andecstatically shouted, "Gid-dap!" "Why not use real sandpaper?" urged the squire, with innocent mildness. Jones whirled and drove his delegation ahead of him from the room, bothhands upraised, fingers and thumbs snapping loud cracks as if he wereurging his horses up Burkett Hill with snapping whip. The men wenttramping down the outside stairs, bellowing the first honest-to-goodnesslaughter that Egypt had heard for many a day. Squire Hexter leaped up and grabbed his hat and coat from their hooks. "Come on, boy! It looks as if there's going to be a nominating bee at_The Hornet_ office--and we mustn't miss any of the buzzing. " The two followed close on the heels of the noisy delegation. Usial Britt opened his door and stood in the frame of light after Joneshad halted his clamorous crowd. The amateur publicist rolled his inkyhands in his apron and showed doubt that was growing into alarm. "Hold your nippety pucket, Usial, " counseled Hexter, calling over theheads of the men. "The boys had me guessing, too, a few minutes ago. Butthis isn't a lynching bee. " However, while the crowd laughed and others came hastening to the scene, and while Spokesman Jones was trying to make himself heard above theuproar, an element was added which seemed to discount the Squire'sreassuring words. Tasper Britt rushed out from Files's tavern and stood on the porch. Hehad one of the papers in his hand. He ripped the paper to tattersand strewed about him the bits and stamped on the litter. He shriekedprofanity. Then he leaped off the porch. In the tavern yard was "Gid-dap" Jones's stage pung. Britt yanked thebig whip from its socket and bounced across the street, untangling thelash. "No, you don't!" bellowed Jones, getting in the way and making grabsat the whip. "Not with my own private persuader! Get aholt of him, men!Down him. Don't let him whale the representative we're going to sendfrom the town of Egypt!" That declared hint of what was afoot put the last touch on TasperBritt's fury. He fought savagely to force his way through the men. The voice of Usial checked the melee. He shouted with a compellingquality in his tone. As the man on whom they proposed to bestow thetown's highest honor, he had already acquired new authority. The menloosed Tasper Britt. "This is between brothers, " said Usial. He had stepped from his doorway. He stood alone. "What outsider dares to interfere?" Tasper Britt employed his freedom promptly and brutally; he leaped alongthe avenue the men left for him and began to lash Usial with the whip. The stolid townsfolk of Egypt stood in their tracks. "That's the best way--let 'em fight it out, " counseled Spokesman Jones. "Tasp Britt will get his, and it'll be in the family!" But Usial merely tossed his big apron over his head and crouched andtook the lashing. "Isn't somebody going to stop that?" Vaniman demanded. Nobody moved. Egypt had its own ideas about interference in familymatters, it seemed, and had been tartly reminded of those ideas by UsialBritt himself. But Vaniman was an outlander. He saw his employer disgracing himself; hebeheld an unresisting victim cruelly maltreated. The young man jumped on Tasper Britt and tried to hold his arms. WhenBritt whirled and broke loose by the twist of his quick turn and struckthe cashier with the whip, Vaniman wrested away the weapon, using allhis vigorous strength, and threw it far. Then he seized the frothingassailant and forced him back toward the tavern. "Mr. Britt, rememberwhat you are--the president of our bank--a prominent man--" Vanimangasped, protesting. "When you're yourself you'll thank me!" But there was no sign of gratitude in Britt's countenance just then. Hiscrazed rage was shifted to this presumptuous person who had interferedand was manhandling him; at that moment the liveliest emotion in Brittwas the mordant jealousy that he had been trying to stifle. It awoke andraged, finding real excuse for the venting of its rancor on the man whohad made him jealous. "You damnation spawn of a jailbird--" The young man had a rancor of his own that he had been holding in leashever since he had sent Vona to fight her own battle, with his kisson her cheek. He broke off that vitriolic taunt by dealing Britt anopen-handed slap across the mouth, a blow of such force that the manwent reeling backward. And when Britt beheld Vaniman's face, as theyoung man came resolutely along, the magnate of Egypt kept goingbackward of his own accord, flapping hands of protest. "Vaniman, hereand now I discharge you from the bank. " "Mr. Britt, that's a matter for the vote of the directors--and I'll waitto hear from them. " Vaniman whirled from Britt, for the impulse was in him to smash hisdoubled fist into that hateful visage; his palm still itched; theopen-handed buffet had not satisfied the tingling nerves of that hand. Usial Britt had not hurried about raising himself from his crouchingposition. He was standing with his apron over his head and faced thecitizens. He was smiling--an irradiating, genial, triumphant sort ofsmile! One might readily have taken him for the victor in a contest! Spokesman Jones gulped. "We came--we was intending--but thishoop-te-doo--" Usial beamed blandly and helped out Mr. Jones's efforts to express hisintentions. "Yes, Brother Jones, it was quite a shower while it lasted. What were you intending to do?" "Ask you to take the nomination for the legislature. " The crowd indorsed the request with _viva-voce_ enthusiasm. "I certainly will. I am pleased and proud, " declared Usial. Through the circle of men came Prophet Elias, his robe trailing on hisheels. He stood beside Usial and faced the bystanders. He proclaimed, "'Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors, through Him thatloved us. '" Somebody handed to Mr. Jones his whip and he inspected it carefully. "Ofcourse, there's more than one way of fighting a man--and I have my ownnotions--but maybe I'm wrong. " "Eli has observed many a dog-fight, " Squire Hexter remarked; "and, sofar as he sees, the attacking dog doesn't get much out of the fracasexcept a ripped ear and a raw reputation in the neighborhood. " Hemarched to Vaniman, took that perturbed young man by the arm, and saidthat Xoa would be waiting supper. CHAPTER VII SQUARED OFF AND ALL SET As Squire Hexter and Vaniman walked on together the notary deferredcomment on the recent happenings, as if he hoped that the cashier wouldopen up on the topic. But Frank was grimly silent. Therefore the Squire broke the ice. "What kind of a partner doesTasp Britt make in a polka, son? I saw you and him going at it prettybriskly. " "I stopped him from making a fool of himself. " "Quite a contract, boy! Quite a contract! And when you got to the matterof his purple whiskers and his lamp-mat hair--" "I said nothing to Mr. Britt on such a ridiculous topic--certainly not, sir!" "And yet you brag that you have stopped him from making a fool ofhimself, " purred the Squire. "Tut! Tut! He's worse than ever. I heardhim tell you that you're discharged from the bank. " "Yes, I heard him, too!" "I didn't catch what you answered back. " "I told him I should ask the directors to decide that matter. " "Quite right! You're sure of one vote for your side--that's mine! AndI think that when President Britt considers that he has no other chargeagainst you except that you took away a horsewhip that he was using notwisely but too well--" "I struck him across the mouth. " "Oh, I missed that, " said the Squire, regretfully. "Why the pat?" "I could not express my feelings in any other way. As to what thosefeelings were and why he stirred them, I'll have to ask you to excuseme, Squire Hexter. If I were going to stay in the bank I would explainthe matter to you and to the directors. But I'm going to resign. Underthese conditions, nobody has the right to tear the heart out of me andstick it up for a topic of conversation. " The Squire glanced sideways at the convulsed face of the cashier andopened his eyes wide; but he promptly hid his wonderment and checkedan exclamation that sounded like a question. "I reckon all of us betterwait till morning, son--Tasper and you and I and all the rest. " Helooked up at the bright stars in a hard sky. "A snappy night like thiswill cool things off considerable. " "I'll wait till morning, sir! Then I propose to resign, " Frank insisted. "Don't say anything like that in front of Xoa, " pleaded Squire Hexter. "I don't ever want to see again on her face the look she wore when shefollowed our own Frank to the cemetery; now that she has sort of adoptedyou, boy, I'm afraid she'll have the same look if she had to follow youto Ike Jones's stage. " The supper was waiting, as the Squire had predicted; but he took nochances on sitting at table at once and having her keen woman's eyessurvey Vaniman's somber face; he feared that her solicitude would openup a dangerous topic. "Leave your biscuits in for a few minutes, Mother, " the Squire urged. "Let's have some literature for an appetizer. " So he sat down and read the brotherly tribute in the new issue of _TheHornet_, and Xoa's eyes glistened behind her spectacles, though shedecorously deplored the heat of the sting dealt by Usial. Frank, watching her efforts to hide mirth and display womanly concern at thisdistressing affair between brothers, forgot some of his own troubles inhis amusement. Therefore the Squire's tactics were successful, and thetalk at the supper table over the hot biscuits and the cold chicken andthe damson preserves was concerned merely with the characters of thebrothers Britt. Squire Hexter did mention, casually, that Frank hadsucceeded in inducing Tasper to stop whipping Usial. Xoa reached andpatted the young man's arm and blessed him with her eyes. Frank, as usual, helped Xoa to clear away the supper things. Early inhis stay he had been obliged to beg for permission to do it, and shehad consented at last when he pleaded that it made him feel less like aboarder in the Hexter home. While she finished her work in the kitchen Vaniman sat with theSquire in front of the fireplace and smoked his pipe, but not with hiscustomary comfort; the tobacco seemed to be as bitter as his ponderings;he was trying to stiffen his resolution to go away from Egypt. Squire Hexter chatted. It was hard to keep off the Britt affair, but thenotary tactfully kept away from the sore center of it. "It has been going on a long time--the trouble between 'em, son. For twomen who look alike outside, they're about as different inside as any twoI've ever known. Tasper has been all for grab! He grabbed away Usial'sshare of the home place and then he grabbed Mehitable Dole while shewas keeping company with Usial. I suppose Hittie reckoned there was nochoice in outside looks, but saw considerable inducement in the homeplace. Plenty of other women for Usial! Yes! But I can't help thinkingthat I might be keeping bach hall in my law office if I hadn't got holdof Xoa in my young days. So there's Usial! Right in his rut because he'sthe kind that stays in a rut. Pegs shoes days and reads books nights. Notelling how the legislature may develop him. Glad he's going. " The Squire rapped out his pipe ashes against an andiron. His posturegave him an opportunity to say what he said next without meetingVaniman's gaze. "Vona Harnden was a mighty smart girl when she wasteaching school. I was superintendent and had a chance to know. Does shetake hold well in the bank?" Vaniman had hard work to make his affirmative sound casual. "Have you met Joe, her father, since you've been in town?" "No, sir. " "Not surprising, and no great loss. Joe is on the jump a lot--geniusingaround the country. Joe's a real genius. " The young man looked straight into the fire and returned no comment. Heknew well the dry quality of Hexter's satirical humor and perceived thatthe notary was indulging in that humor. "Yes, Joe Harnden is quite an operator, son. Jumps, as I have said. Agood optimist. Jumps up so high every day that he can see over all thebothersome hills into the Promised Land of Plenty. Only trouble is thatJoe's jumping apparatus is so geared that he only jumps straight up andlands back in the same place. Now, if only he could jump ahead. " Xoa had come in from the kitchen and was setting out a small table onwhich the pachisi board was ready for the evening's regular recreation. She broke in with protest. "Amos, you shouldn't make fun of theneighbors!" "I'm complimenting Joe Harnden, " the Squire went on, with serenity. "I'msaying that when he uses that inventive genius of his on his own jumpinggear he'll leap ahead and make good. For instance, son, here's anexample. Joe invented an anti-stagger shoe--a star-shaped shoe--tobe let out at saloons and city clubs like they lend umbrellas for afee--and then the reformers went and passed that prohibition law. Alwaysa little behind with a grand notion--that's the trouble with Joe!" "Amos, you're making up that yarn about a shoe!" declared Xoa. "Well, if it wasn't an anti-stagger shoe, it was--oh--something, "insisted the Squire. "At any rate, Joe was in my office to-day. He'shome again. He's all cheered up. He is taking town gossip for facevalue. " The notary looked away from Vaniman and gave his wife aningenuous glance. "Of course, I don't need to remind you, Xoa, speakingof gossip, that the folks will have it that Tasp Britt has put on thatwar paint so as to go on the trail of a Number Two. And Joe says that, in picking Vona, Britt has picked right. Joe's a genius in inventing. I'm expecting that he'll now invent a lie about himself or Britt orsomebody else to make that girl either sorry enough or mad enough tocarry out what gossip is predicting. " Xoa had seated herself at the small table and was vigorously rattlingthe dice in one of the boxes by way of a hint to the laggard menfolks. "Women have a soft side, and men come up on that side and takeadvantage--and Joe Harnden's mealy mouth has always served him wellwith his womenfolks--but I do hope Vona Harnden has got done beingfool enough to galley-slave and sacrifice for the rest of her life, "sputtered the dame. "Britt for her? Fs-s-sh!" Her hiss of disgust wasprolonged. Then she rattled the dice more vigorously. "It's a mighty good imitation of a--diamond-backed rattler, mother! Butcome on over to the table, son! She isn't as dangerous as she sounds!"The Squire dragged along his chair. Vaniman leaped from his seat with a suddenness that was startling inthat interior where peace prevailed and composure marked all acts. Forthe first time in his stay in the Hexter home his mood fought with theserenity of the place. The prospect of that bland contest with disksand dice was hateful, all of a sudden. His rioting feelings neededroom--air--somehow there seemed to be something outside that he ought toattend to. "Dear folks, let me off for to-night, " he pleaded. "It's been a hard dayfor me--in the bank--I'm nervous--I think a walk will do me good. " He rushed into the hallway without waiting for any reply. He put on hiscap and finished pulling on his overcoat when he was outside the house. His first impulse was to stride away from the village--go out along thecountry road to avoid the men who scowled at him as Britt's right-handservitor. But he noted that some kind of tumult seemed to be going on in thevillage--and any kind of tumult fitted the state of his emotions rightthen. He hurried toward the tavern. Up and down the street men were marching, to and fro before Usial'sshop. Vaniman saw tossing torches and the light revealed that some ofthe marchers wore oilcloth capes, evidently relics of some past and gonepolitical campaign when parades were popular. There was music, of a sort. A trombone blatted--there was the staccatotuck of a snare drum, and the boom of a bass drum came in withisochronal beats. Vaniman went to the tavern porch and stood there with other onlookers. "Give Ike Jones half a chance with that old tramboon of his and he ain'tno slouch as a musicianer, " remarked Landlord Files to the young man. "Ihope Egypt is waking up to stay so. " "If we keep on, the town will get to be lively enough to suit even acity chap like you are, " said another citizen. "Hope you're going tostay with us!" But there was no cordiality in that implied invitation;that there was malice which hoped to start something was promptlyrevealed. "In spite of what is reported about Tasp Britt firing you outof your job!" sneered the man. The morrow held no promise for Vaniman, no matter what the Squire hadsaid in the way of reassurance. To stay with Britt in that bank wouldbe intolerable punishment. He decided that he might as well talk backto Egypt as Egypt deserved to be talked to, considering what line ofcontumely had been passed in through that bank wicket. He was obligedto speak loudly in order to be heard over the trombone and the drums. Therefore, everybody in the crowd got what he said; he was young, deeplystirred, and he had held back his feelings for a long time. "I'm goingto leave this God-forsaken, cat-fight dump just as soon as I can make myarrangements to get away. Good night!" He was ashamed of himself the moment that speech was out of his mouth. He was so much ashamed that he immediately became afraid he wouldbe moved to apologize; and he was also ashamed to apologize. He was, therefore, suffering from a peculiar mixture of emotions, and realizedthat fact, and hurried off before his tongue could get him into anyworse scrape. He suddenly felt an impulse to get back to sanity by a talk with Vona. He had never called at her home. He knew his Egypt all too well--shortas his stay had been! A call on a young woman by a young man was alwaysconstrued by gossip as a process of courtship--and until that day Frankhad been keeping his feelings hidden even from Vona herself. But, having definitely decided to leave the town, he was in a mood toput aside considerations of caution in regard to their mutual affairs, for one evening, at any rate. He was moved also by the reflection thather father was at home--and the Squire and Xoa had dropped broad hintsas to that gentleman's methods of operation with his womenkind. Vanimanpossessed youth's confidence in his ability to make good in the world. He wondered if it would not be well to have a general show-down in theHarnden family, in order that when he went away from Egypt he might gowith the consolation of knowing that Vona was waiting for him, her lovesanctioned. Pondering, he arrived in front of Egypt's humble town hall. Young folkswere coming out of the door. He remembered then! For some weeks theyhad been rehearsing a drama to be presented on the eve of Washington'sBirthday, and Vona had the leading role; she had employed him at slacktimes in the bank to hold the script and prompt her in her lines. He saw her and stopped, and she hastened to him. "I suppose a politicalparade on Broadway wouldn't break up a rehearsal, Frank. But that's whathas happened in this case. Not one of us could keep our minds on what wewere saying. " "I'm not surprised. Any noise of an evening in this place, except an owlhooting, is a cause for hysterics. " She walked on at his side. "You're disgusted with our poor old town, "she said, plaintively. "I'm going to leave. Do you blame me?" "I've heard about the--whatever it was!" "That's right! Leave it unnamed--whatever it was!" She touched his arm timidly. "Please be kind--to me--no matter how muchcause you have to dislike others here. " He stopped, put his arms about her, and drew her into a close embrace. There were shadows of buildings where they stood; no one was near. "I can't do my best here, Vona. You understand it. But I can't go awayand do the best that's in me unless I go with your pledge to me. " "You have it, Frank! The pledge of all my love. " "But your folks! They tell me your father is at home. " "I have said nothing to father and mother--naturally. " She smiled upat him. "I have never had any occasion to say anything to them about myloving anybody, because that matter has never come up till now. " "I am going home with you, " he said, grimly, and drew her along, his armlinked in hers. "If you think it is advisable for me to talk with father and mother, I'll do it--I'll do it to-night, " she volunteered, courageously. "Vona, I never want to feel again as I did this afternoon when I allowedyou to go alone on an errand that concerned us both. After this, I'mgoing to stand up, man fashion, and do the talking for the two of us. " CHAPTER VIII TWO AGAINST THE FIELD Mr. Harnden had not had a bit of trouble late that afternoon in securinga promise from Tasper Britt to give him audience and view the plans andspecifications of Mr. Harnden's latest invention. In fact, the consenthad been secured so easily that Mr. Harnden, freshly arrived in town onIke Jones's stage, and having heard no Egypt gossip during a prolongedabsence from home, had blinked at Britt with the air of a man who hadexpected to find a door held against him, had pushed hard, and hadtumbled head over heels when nothing opposed him. Mr. Harnden went out on the street and put himself in the way of hearingsome gossip. Then he went directly back into Britt's office and shookhands with the money king, giving Mr. Britt an arch look which suggestedthat Mr. Harnden knew a whole lot that he was not going to talk aboutright then. He said, ascribing the idea to second thought, that it mightbe cozier and handier to view the plans at the Harnden home. Mr. Brittagreed with a heartiness that clinched the hopes which gossip had givenMr. Harnden. The father causally said he supposed, of course, that Vonahad gone home long before from the bank, and he watched Mr. Britt'sexpression when the banker replied to a question as to how she wasgetting on with her work. "Yes, siree, she's a smart girl, " corroborated the father, "and I havealways impressed on her mind that some day she was bound to rise highand get what she deserves to have. Come early, Tasper, and we'll make apleasant evening of it. " Mr. Britt went early, but not early enough to catch Vona before she leftfor the rehearsal. Although it had been particularly easy to get Mr. Britt to come tothe house, Mr. Harnden was not finding it easy to hold his prospectivebacker's attention. The patent project under consideration was what theinventor called "a duplex door, " designed to keep kitchen odors fromdining rooms. Mr. Harnden had a model of the apparatus. With hisforefinger he kept tripping the doors, showing how a person's weightoperated the contrivance, shutting the doors behind and simultaneouslyopening the doors in front; but Mr. Harnden did not draw attention tothe palpable fact that a waiter would need to have the agility of a fleato escape being swatted in the rear or banged in the face. Mr. Britt watched the model's operations with lackluster eyes; he seemedto be looking through the little doors and at something else that wasnot visible to the inventor. Mr. Harnden was short and roly-poly, with a little round mouth and biground eyes, and a curlicue of topknot that he wagged in emphasis as aunicorn might brandish his horn. Mr. Harnden considered that he was agood talker. He was considerably piqued by Britt's apparent failure toget interested, although the banker was making considerable of an effortto return suitable replies when the inventor pinned him to answers. "Suppose I go over the whole plan again, from the start, " suggestedHarnden. "Joe, Mr. Britt looks real tired, " protested Mrs. Harnden from thechimney corner. Her querulous tone fitted her lackadaisical looks; herhouse dress had too many flounces on it; she had a paper-covered novelin her hand. "Yes, I _am_ tired, " declared Britt, mournfully. "Sort of worn out andall discouraged. I feel terribly alone in this world. " "Too bad!" Mrs. Harnden cooed her sympathy, affectedly. "And I've been through hell's torments in the last few hours, " declaredBritt; ire succeeded his dolor. "You must try and forget how those ingrates have abused you, Mr. Britt. This is a beautiful story I have just finished. You must take it withyou and read it. The love sentiment is simply elegant. And it speaks ofthe sheltering walls of the home making a haven for the wounded heart. Ihope you have found this home a haven to-night. " She rose and crossed tohim and laid the novel in his hands. Mr. Harnden shoved his own hands into his trousers pockets, throwingback his coat from his comfortable frontal convexity. He presenteda sort of full-rigged effect--giving the appearance of one of thosehandy-Jack "Emergency Eddies" who make personal equipment a fad: theupper pockets of his waistcoat bristled with pencils and showed theend of a folded rule and some calipers. He had all sorts of chainsdisappearing into various pockets--chains for keys and knife and cigarcutter and patent light. "Tasper, " he advised, briskly, "seeing thatyou're now in a happy haven, as the wife says, why waste time and temperon this town? The only reason why I have kept my home here is becausethe town is solid rock and makes a good jumping-off place for me; I canget a firm toe hold. Why do you bother with a dinky office like the oneyou started out for? With your money and general eminence you can be theGovernor of our state. Sure! I know all the men in this state. I've madeit my business to know 'em. Let me be your manager and I'll make youGovernor like"--Mr. Harnden yanked out one hand and tripped the doorsof the model with a loud snap--"like that! Open goes the door tohonors--bang goes the door against enemies!" Mr. Britt glanced at the title of the story in his hands--_The FlowersAlong Life's Pathway_--and perked up a bit as if he saw an opportunityto pluck some of those flowers. But when Mr. Harnden went on to say thatpolitics was not as expensive--with the right manager--as some folkssupposed, Mr. Britt exhibited gloomy doubt. "A home is about all I havein mind right now, " he declared. "A man has got to have a happy homebefore his mind is free for big plans. " "My experience exactly!" stated Mr. Harnden, graciously indicating witha wave of the hand the happy home which he rarely graced. "And knowingwhat I do about the help a good home gives an enterprising man, you'vegot my full co-operation in your efforts, Tasper. " They heard the hall door open. "It's Vona, " announced Mrs. Harnden. She beamed on Britt. "I wonder whythe dear girl is coming home so early. " The caller's face lighted up with the effect of an arc lamp going intoaction. But when the sitting-room door opened and Vona escorted Vaniman in aheadof her, Britt's illuminated expression instantly became the red glare ofrage instead of the white light of hope. He leaped to his feet. The situation made for embarrassment of overwhelming intensity; therewas no detail of the affair in front of Usial's cot that had not beencanvassed by every mouth in Egypt, including the mouths of the Harndenhome. Vaniman made the first move. He bowed to Mrs. Harnden; he knew themother; she had called on Vona in the bank. "May I meet your father?" heasked the girl. Vona presented him, recovering her composure by the aid of Frank'ssteadiness. "How-de-do!" said Mr. Harnden, stiffly. He did not ask the caller to beseated. Vona gave the invitation. While Vaniman hesitated, the masterof the household had a word to say, putting on his best business air. "Ordinarily, young man, the latchstring of my home is out and the boysand the girls are welcome here to make merry in a sociable way. " Mr. Harnden was distinctly patronizing, with an air that put Frank intothe intruding-urchin class. "But it so happens that this evening BankerBritt has seized the opportunity of my being in town and he and I are inclose conference regarding an important matter in the investment line. You'll excuse us, I'm sure. " It was certainly no moment to go tilting in the field of Love, andFrank, though undaunted, was deferential; and he was compelled torecognize the father's rights as master of the household. He bowed andturned to leave, carefully keeping his eyes off Britt. But Vona had her word to say then; her foot was on the hearth of home;she had that advantage over Frank. Moreover, she was moved by theinstinct of self-protection; she did not relish the notion of being leftalone with that trio. "We can kindle a fire in the front room, father!" "There hasn't been a fire in that room all winter, dear girl. " Mrs. Harnden's protest was sweetly firm. "No one shall run the chance ofcatching a cold. " "Exactly! It's tricky weather, and we must be careful of our guests, "agreed Mr. Harnden. "Call again, young sir!" "I will, " stated Vaniman. He turned and addressed Vona. "The littlematter will take no harm if it's postponed till to-morrow, " he told her. His gaze was tender--and the girl looked up at him with an expressionwhich even a careless observer would have found telltale. Britt's visionwas sharpened by such jealous venom that he would have misconstrued eveninnocent familiarity. He had been struggling with his passion ever sinceVaniman had appeared, escorting the girl in from the night where the twohad been alone together. Age's ugly resentment at being supplanted byyouth was sufficiently provocative in this case where Britt ardentlylonged, and had promised himself what he desired; but to thatprovocation was added the stinging memory of the blow dealt that dayby Youth's hand across Age's withered mouth; he licked the swollen lipswith a rabid tongue. He beheld the two young folks exchanging looks thatgave to their simple words an import which roused all his fury. Brittshook himself free from all restraint. He had been assured by theHarndens that their home was his haven; he took advantage of thatassurance and of the young man's more dubious standing in the household. Britt was holding to the paper-covered novel--it was doubled in hisireful grip and its title showed plainly above his ridged hand--aparticularly infelicitous title it seemed to be under the circumstances, because Britt was shaking the book like a cudgel and his demeanor wasthat of a man who was clutching thorns instead of flowers. He advancedon Frank and his voice made harsh clamor in the little room. "You'dbetter not take on any more engagements for to-morrow, Vaniman. You'llbe mighty busy with me, winding up our business together. " "Very well, sir. And suppose we leave off all matters between us untilthen!" But Britt had started to run wild and was galloping under the whip offury. He had been doing some amazing things that day--he had writtenverse, he had blubbered foolishly with a girl looking on, and he hadhorsewhipped his twin brother before the eyes of the populace--but whathe did next was more amazing than all the rest. Having sourly admittedto himself that he was a coward when he was alone with the girl, hetook advantage of this moment when his choleric desperation gave himfictitious courage. He slashed into the situation with what weapons hehad at hand--and he held a reserve weapon, so he thought, in the bigwallet that thrust its bulk reassuringly against his breast. "This thingseems to have come to a climax; and it ain't through any fault of mine. I've never yet been afraid to talk for myself, in a climax, and I ain'tafraid now. The time to do business is when you've got your interestedparties assembled--and the five folks in this room--the whole five--maynot be collected together again, " he stated, with vengeful significance, looking hard at Vaniman. Then he whirled on the girl. "Vona, I want tomarry you. You know it. Your folks know it. It's all understood, even ifit hasn't been put into words. I'll give you everything that money willbuy. When you get me you know what you're getting. I put the question toyou right here and now, before your home folks, and that shows you whatkind of a square man I am. I don't sneak in dark corners. " He accusedher escort with a glowering side-glance. Mrs. Harnden simpered. Vona had never found her mother an especially stable support in times ofstress, but the girl did feel that the maternal spirit might arise andhelp in an emergency as vital as that one! Mrs. Harnden, however, was gazing into the arena and was blandly indicating by her demeanor, "Thumbs down!" Then the girl appealed to her father, mutely eager; denied sympathy, shewas asking for protection. But Mr. Harnden was distinctly not extendingprotection. He was looking at Mr. Britt. By avoiding what he knew thegirl was asking for with all her soul in her eyes, Mr. Harnden wasindulging his consistent selfishness; he hated to be worried by thetroubles of others; others' woes placed brambles on the pathway of hisoptimism. "Tasper, you have certainly jumped the Harnden family--jumped uscomplete! You can't expect a girl to get her voice back right away. ButI suppose it's up to me to speak for the family. " Vaniman stepped into the center of the room. "I suppose so, too, Mr. Harnden. I'll confess that I came into your house this evening with thatidea in my mind. " Now the girl had eyes only for the one whom she recognized as herreal champion; those eyes would have inspired a knight to any sort ofderring-do, Frank was telling himself. "That being agreed, I'll speak, " stated Mr. Harnden, throwing back hiscoat lapels and displaying all his pencil quills. "Just one moment, sir, till I have shown that Mr. Britt has no monopolyon courage--seeing that he has put invasion of a quiet home on thatplane. I love your daughter. I want her for my wife. I came here to tellyou so; but I was putting politeness ahead of my anxiety after you toldme that you were engaged. " "Harnden, that man hasn't a cent in the world, " Britt declared. "Hesends away every sou markee he can spare from his salary. He buys checksfrom me. I can show 'em. " Out came Britt's big wallet; he threw down thepaper-covered novel. "I support my mother and I'm putting my young sister through school, "admitted the cashier. "Mr. Britt is right. But every time I buy one ofhis checks I buy a lot of honest comfort for myself. " "I think, young man, that the Harnden family better not interfere withthe comfort of the Vaniman family, " averred the father, loftily. "I'dhate to think I was a party to taking bread from the mouths of a motherand a sister. I'm sure Vona feels the same way. " "Certainly!" supplemented Mrs. Harnden. "I understand a woman's feelingsin such a matter. " "Furthermore, I have discharged Vaniman for good and sufficientreasons, " said President Britt. "He stands there busted and without ajob. " "That is quite true, " Vaniman admitted. "I cannot remain with the EgyptTrust Company, but that's a matter quite of my own choice. " "Oh, it is, is it?" scoffed the president. "Yes, sir! I've had quite enough of your society. " "Therefore, it seems to me that there isn't much more to be said--nothere--in a home that we try to make peaceful and happy at all times, "said Mr. Harnden, pompously. "But there's something more I'm going to say!" Britt was proceeding withmalice in tones and mien. He had been waving the canceled checks. Hepulled another paper from the wallet. "You think the directors wouldkeep you on in that job, do you, Vaniman, if you forced the issue?" "I do! Jealousy and petty spite would not show up very strong in a boardmeeting, Mr. Britt. " Britt shook the paper. "How would this show up?" Vaniman did not lose his composure. "Why don't you read it aloud? Youhave stirred curiosity in Mr. And Mrs. Harnden, I see. " "And I'll stir something else in a girl you're trying to fool! But I'mgong to save this letter for that board meeting; I'll have you fired bya regular vote--and I'll send the record of that vote to every bank inthis part of the country. Then see how far you'll get with your liesabout my jealousy!" Britt was plainly determined to allow guesswork todeal in the blackest construction regarding the letter. Vaniman turned his back on the others. He talked directly to Vona. Theagonized query in her eyes demanded a reply from him. "Mr. Britt has inhis hand a letter from some banking friend of his. The letter says thatmy father was sentenced to the penitentiary, charged with embezzlement. That is so. My father died there. But it was wicked injustice. You andyour father and mother are entitled to know that an honest man was madea scapegoat. " "Excuse me!" broke in Harnden. "We are outsiders and will probablyremain so, and have no hankering to pry into family matters. " "I did not intend to tell the story now, Mr. Harnden. It's too sacreda matter to be discussed in the presence of that man who stands theretrying to make a club of the thing to ruin my hopes and my life. This isa hateful situation. I apologize. But he has forced me to speak out, asI have done, telling you and your wife of my love for Vona. " "I don't see how you dare to speak of it, seeing what the circumstancesare, " declared the father; there was a murmur of corroboration from themother. "It's a cheeky insult to all concerned, " shouted Britt. "No, it's my best attempt to be honest and open and a man, " insistedVaniman. "I have left no chance for gossip to bring tales to you, Mr. Harnden. " But Mr. Harnden sliced the air with a hand that sought to sever furtherconference. "Absolutely impossible, young man. " "Vona's prospects must not be ruined by anybody's selfishness, " statedMrs. Harnden. In his eagerness, encouraged by this parental backing, Mr. Britt didnot employ a happy metaphor. "It has been my rule, in the case of bittermedicine, to take it quick and have the agony over with. " He put all theappeal he could muster into his gaze at Vona. "That's why I have sprungthe thing this evening, on the spur of the moment. I ain't either youngor handsome, Vona. I know my shortcomings. But I've got everything tomake you happy; all you've got to do is turn around and take me as yourhusband and make me and your folks happy, too. " Mr. Harnden's optimism bobbed up with its usual serenity. "We're makinga whole lot out of a little, come to think it over!" He turned to Vona, feeling that he was fortified against any appeal he might find in hereyes. In the silence that she had imposed on herself while her champion wasbattling she had been gathering courage, piling up the ammunition ofresolution. Love lighted her eyes and flung out its signal banners ofchallenge on her cheeks. "Why, our girl has never said that she is in love with anybody, " pratedthe father. "I'll say it now, when there's a good reason for saying it, " cried thegirl, her tones thrilling the listeners. "I'll say it in my own way tothe one who is entitled to know, and you may listen, father and mother!" She went to Frank, stretching her hands to him, and he took them inhis grasp. "I understand! I can wait, " she told him. "And when the timecomes and you call to me, I'll say, as Ruth said, 'Entreat me not toleave thee, or to return from following after thee; for whither thougoest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge; thy people shallbe my people, and thy God my God. '" Impulsively, heeding only him, shethrew her arms around his neck and kissed him. Then she ran from theroom. And finding the light gone out of the place, Frank groped to the door, like a blind man feeling his way, and departed. CHAPTER IX THE NIGHT BROUGHT COUNSEL Mr. Britt, left with the father and mother, got his voice first becausehe had been pricked most deeply; furthermore, the girl's method ofexpression had touched him on the spot which had been abraded by ProphetElias's daily rasping. The suitor drove his fist down on the center table with a force thatcaused the model of Mr. Harnden's doors to jump and snap. "By thejoo-dinged, hump-backed Hosea, I've just about got to my limit in thistext business!" "The dear girl is all wrought up. She don't realize what she's saying. I'll run up to her room and reason with her. Don't mind what a girl saysin a tantrum, Mr. Britt, " Mrs. Harnden pleaded. Mr. Britt, left with the father, began to stride back and forth acrossthe room. The title of the book jeered up at him from the carpet wherehe had tossed the volume; he kicked the book under the table. "The wife said a whole lot just now, " affirmed Mr. Harnden, soothingly. "Consider where the girl has been this evening, Tasper! Off elocutingdramatic stuff! Comes back full of high-flown nonsense. Gets offsomething that was running in her head. Torched on by that fly-by-nightwho'll be getting out of town and who'll be forgotten inside a week. Where's your optimism?" He reached up and slapped Britt's back when thebanker passed him. "She is in love with him, " complained the suitor; his anger wassucceeded by woe; his face "squizzled" as if he were about to weep asecond time that day. "Piffle! She's a queer girl if she didn't have the usual run of childishailments, along with the whooping cough and the measles. I have alwaysknown how to manage my womenfolks, Tasper. Not by threats and bytumulting around as you have been doing! You've got a lot to learn. Listen to me!" Mr. Britt paused and blinked and listened. Mr. Harnden plucked out a pencil and made believe write a screed on thepalm of his hand while he talked. "'By the twining tendrils of theiraffections you can sway 'em to and fro, ' as the poet said, speaking ofwomen. I am loved in my home. I have important prospects, now that youare backing me. " Mr. Britt blinked more energetically, but he did not dispute. "Another poet has said that's it's all right to lie for love's sake--orwords to that effect. I know the right line of talk to give Vona. AndI won't have to lie such a great lot to make her know how bad off I amright now. She has always had a lot of sympathy for me, " declared Mr. Harnden, complacently. "I may as well cash in on it. She won't ruin aloving father and a happy home when she wakes up after a good cry on thewife's shoulder and gets her second wind and understands where she's atin this thing. Tasper, you sit down there in a comfortable chair and letme rub on some optimism anodyne where you're smarting the worst. " When Mrs. Harnden came into the room a half hour later she lookedpromptly relieved to find Mr. Britt in such a calm mood; when she hadhurried out he was acting as if he were intending to kick the furnitureabout the place. "A good cry--and all at peace, eh?--and a new view of things in themorning?" purred the optimist in the way of query. "She didn't cry, " reported the mother, with a disconsolateness that didnot agree with the cheering words of the reports. "Oh, very well, " remarked Mr. Harnden, optimism unspecked. "That showsshe is taking a common-sense view and is using her head. What says she?" "I may as well post you on how the matter stands, Mr. Britt. By beinghonest all 'round we can operate together better. " Britt agreed by an emphatic nod. After an inhalation which suggested the charging of an air gun, Mrs. Harnden pulled the verbal trigger. "Vona says she is all through at thebank. " "Oh, I know my girl, " said Mr. Harnden, airily. "I'll handle her whenmorning's light is bright, and forgotten is the night!" "I thought I knew my girl, too, " the mother declared, gloomily. "But Iguess I don't. I never saw her stiffen up like this before. She satand looked at me, and I felt like a cushion being jabbed by a couple ofhatpins--if there's any such thing as a cushion having feelings. "Mrs. Harnden, settling her flounces, a soft and sighing example of "alanguishing Lydia, " was as unfortunate in her metaphor as Britt had beenwhen he mentioned a bitter medicine. "Tell her that I'll pay her ten dollars more a week, " said PresidentBritt, looking desperate. "She mustn't leave me in the lurch. " "She'll do it! Nothing to worry about!" affirmed the father. "And I'llgrab in as cashier till my bigger projects get started. I've got anatural knack for handling money, Tasper. " The banker winced. "We can make it all snug, right in the family, " insisted Harnden. He jumped up, opened the door into the hallway, and called. He keptcalling, his tones growing more emphatic, till the girl replied fromabovestairs. "She's coming down, " reported the general manager of the household, taking his stand in front of the fireplace. He pulled on a chain anddragged out a bunch of keys and whirled them like a David taking aimwith a sling. Vona came no farther than the doorway, and stood framed there. "What's this last nonsense--that you won't go to your work in themorning?" "Your pay is raised ten dollars a week, starting to-morrow, "supplemented Britt, appealingly. But there was no compromise in the girl's mien. "Mr. Britt, I realizeperfectly well that I ought to give you due notice--the usual two weeks. That would be the honorable business way. But you have set the exampleof disregarding business methods, in your treatment of Mr. Vaniman. Youmustn't blame others for doing as you're doing. Therefore I positivelywill not come into the bank, as conditions are. As I feel to-night Ishall feel to-morrow! If you, or my father and mother, think you canchange my mind on the matter, you'll merely waste your arguments. " That time she did not run away. She surveyed them in turn, leisurelyand perfectly self-possessed. Even the optimist recognized inflexibilitywhen he was bumped against it hard enough! She stepped backward, challenging reply, but they were silent, and she went upstairs. "Still, nobody knows what the morning may bring forth, " persistedHarnden, after waiting for somebody else to speak. "As I have said, Ihave a knack--" "Of blowing up paper bags and listening to 'em bust!" snarled thebanker, permitting himself, at least, to express his real opinion ofa man whom he had always held to be an impractical nincompoop. "If youcount cash the way you count chickens before they're hatched, you'd makea paper bag out of my bank. I'll bid you good night!" He wrenched away from Harnden's restraining hands and shook himselfunder the shower of the optimist's pattering words, as a dog wouldshake off rain. In the hall he pulled on his overcoat and turned up thecollar, for the words still pattered. He went out into the night andslammed the door. Britt began his program of general anathema by shaking his fist at theHarnden house after he had reached the street. He shook his fist at theother houses along the way as he went tramping in the middle of the roadtoward his home. He even brandished his fist at his own statue in thefacade of Britt Block. The moonlight revealed the complacent features;the cocky pose of serene confidence presented by the effigy affected thedisheartened original with as acute a sense of exasperation as he wouldhave felt if the statue had set thumb to nose and had wriggled the stonefingers in impish derision. "Gid-dap" Jones and a few citizens who could not make up their minds togo to bed till they had sucked all the sweetness out of an extraordinaryevening in Egypt, were walking up and down the tavern porch, coolingoff. Mr. Britt, tramping past, shook his fist at them, too. "Hope you enjoyed the music!" suggested Jones, wrought up to a pitchwhere he would not be bull-dozed even by "Phay-ray-oh. " "Yes, and I hope we'll have some more to-morrow night, " retorted thebanker. "You still have the poorhouse, the cattle pound, and the lockupto serenade. " "All right! Which one of 'em do you expect to be in?" inquired Jones. "We wouldn't have you miss a tune for the world!" When Britt arrived in the shadows of his own porch he stood and lookedout over Egypt and cursed the people, in detail and in toto. He hadbecome a monomaniac. He had set himself to accomplish one fell purpose. In his office, earlier that day, he had resolved upon revenge; buthis natural caution had served as a leash, and he had pondered on nodefinite plans that might prove dangerous. Now only one fear besethim--the fear that he would not be able to think up and put through asufficiently devilish program. He banged his door behind him and lighted a lamp which he kept on astand in the hall. He creaked upstairs in the lonely house. His sense ofloneliness was increased when he reflected that Vona would not be at herdesk in the morning. The village watchman noted that the reflector lamp shone all night onthe door of the vault in the Egypt Trust Company; it was the watchman'sbusiness to keep track of that light. But he noted also, outside of hisregular business, that there was a light for most of the night in TasperBritt's bedroom. CHAPTER X THE MAN WHO WAS SORRY It was a heavy dawn, next day; a thaw had set in and a drizzle of rainsoftened the snow; gray clouds trailed their draperies across the top ofBurkett Hill. Landlord Files had trouble in getting his kitchen fire started--in thesluggish air the draught was bad. Mr. Files's spirits were as heavy asthe air. He knew it was up to him to be the first man in Egypt to comein contact with Tasper Britt that morning. Stage-driver Jones had an early breakfast, for he had to be off with themail. Mr. Jones had been up late, for him, and he was grouchy. In thematter of the warfare on Pharaoh his mood seemed to be less assertivethan it had been the night before. Mr. Files detected that much aftersome conversation while the breakfast was served. "All you have to do is 'gid-dap' and get away, " said Files, sourly. "Ihave to stay here on my job and be the first to meet him and get thebrunt of the whole thing. And I condoned, as you might say, and as he'llprobably feel. I let my porch be used for meeting and mobbing, as youmight say. And he ketched me grinning over his shoulder when I readthem heading words after that old lunkhead of a Prophet passed him thepaper. " "Shut up!" remarked Driver Jones, stabbing a potato. "I owe him money--and I let my porch be used--" "Figure out the wear and tear on the planks and pass me the bill. Nowshut up and don't spoil my vittles any morn'n you have done in the wayof cooking 'em. " Mr. Files, left alone to meet Britt, resolved to hand that tyrant apartial sop by having breakfast on the table the moment the regularboarder unfolded his napkin; food might stop Britt's mouth to someextent, the landlord reflected. Result of this precautionary courtesy! The breakfast was a mess whenBritt arrived, a half hour late. Mr. Files had depended on his boarder'sinvariable punctuality and had been obliged to keep "hotting up" thefood, watching the clock with increasing despair. Britt smiled on the landlord when they faced each other in the diningroom. The smile made the landlord shiver. He was dreading the explosion. He set on the viands as timidly as a child holding out peanuts toan elephant. Mr. Britt beamed blandly and spoke of the change in theweather and said he was hoping that "Old Reliable Ike wouldn't bebothered too much by the soft footing on his way to Levant. " Mr. Files gasped when he heard this consideration expressed for theringleader of the evening's demonstration. He recovered sufficiently tostart in on an explanation of the condition of the food. "It's all right, Files! It's my fault. I overslept. " Britt ate for a few minutes; then he suspended operations and lookedFiles hard in the face; that face, as to mouth, was as widely open asthe countenance of the office alligator. "I did a whole lot of thinkinglast night, Files. I'm telling you first, like I propose to tell othersin Egypt as I come in contact with 'em during the day--it has been myfault--how things have happened! The night brings counsel! Yes, sir, itsurely does. " He went on eating. "Mr. Britt, I was afraid--" Pharaoh waved his knife expostulatingly. "I know it, Files! Your facetold me the whole story when I stepped in here. But I'm a changed man. I know when I'm down. However, it's my own fault, I repeat. I stubbed mytoe over the trigs I had set in the way of my own operations. I deservewhat I'm getting--and the lesson will make me a different man from nowon. " Mr. Files staggered out into the kitchen in order to be alone with histhoughts. Britt spent a longer time than usual in the tavern office afterbreakfast; he smoked two cigars, himself, and gave a cigar to each ofthe early citizens who dropped in through the front way after they hadreceived certain information from Files, who excitedly had beckonedthem to come to him at the ell door. Mr. Britt frankly exposed his newsentiments about living and doing. When he put on his overcoat and wentforth, Prophet Elias popped out of the door of Usial's cot like thelittle gowned figure of a toy barometer. Britt waved his hand incheerful greeting. "Prophet Elias, hand me that text about the way ofthe transgressor being a hard one to travel, and I'll take it in a meekand lowly spirit and be much obliged. " There was no sarcasm in Britt'stone; on the contrary, his manner agreed with his profession regardingmeekness. The Prophet swapped stares with Files, who stood in the taverndoor; that Elias was greatly impressed was evident, because he withheldspeech. That situation had enough drawing power to bring the brother to thecottage door; he appeared, his spider in his hand. "Good morning, Usial, " called Tasper. "I own up that you're a convincingwriter. According to your request, you see I'm giving you your rightname. The voters are giving you honors. Who knows what another issue of_The Hornet_ may get for you?" Britt's tone was one of bluff sincerity. Egypt's Pharaoh did not seem to be a bit put out because no one repliedto him in this astonishing levee. He descended from the porch andstrolled off toward Britt Block, puffing his cigar. He found the cashier alone in the bank. Vaniman hastened to put in thefirst word. "President Britt, I'm ready to wind up my affairs, and Ihope you see the wisdom in holding our talk strictly to the business inhand. " The president walked in past the grille and sat down at the table; bythe mere look he gave the young man Britt succeeded in climaxing thesuccession of the morning's surprises; Vaniman had more reason than theothers to be amazed. "Frank, I'm sorry!" There was wistful fervor in the declaration; for thefirst time in their association the president had called the cashier byhis Christian name. Vaniman had risen from his stool; he sat down again and goggled atBritt. "If the two of us begin to apologize, we'll get all snarled up, " went onthe president. "Real men can get down to cases in a better way. I did alot of thinking last night; probably you did, too. The hell fire I wentthrough yesterday would upset any man. To-day I'm scorched and sensible. I went after something I couldn't get. Just now I don't ask you to stayhere permanently. You can stay right along if you want to, I'll say thathere and now! But if you're bound to go--later--go when you can leave onthe square, after you have broken another man into the job, if you feelyou don't want it. I'll send you away then with my best wishes and aclean bill! Please don't make me crawl any more'n I'm doing!" It was an appeal to Youth's hale generosity--and generosity dominatedall the other qualities in Vaniman's nature. "I'll stay, Mr. Britt, " heblurted. "After what you have said I can't help staying. " The banker rose and stretched out his hand. "Men can put more into agrip of the fist than women can into an afternoon of gabble, Frank. " After the vigorous clasp of palm in palm, Britt had something more tosay. "Vona was terribly stirred up last night, and nobody can blame her. She served notice on me that she was done in the bank. But she needsthe money and you and I need her help. Go up and ask her to walk back inhere as if nothing had happened. And tell her that what I said about theraise in her pay holds good. " "I think you ought to go and tell her, Mr. Britt, " Vaniman demurred. "And my standing with Mr. And Mrs. Harnden--" "I guess your standing will be better from now on, " Britt broke in, twisting his face into a wry smile. "I left Harnden with a hot ear onhim last night! Furthermore, you'll have to ask her. She declared thatif her father or mother or I tried to change her mind about coming backhere we'd be wasting breath. Go on! I'll tend bank. " When Frank returned with Vona a half hour later the president beamed onthem through the wicket. He immediately left the bank office, giving thebookkeeper a paternal pat on the shoulder as he passed her, calling hera good girl. And then the business of the Egypt Trust Company settledback into its usual routine. During the day customers came to the wicket with notes sanctioned by thepresident's O. K. And his sprawling initials; Mr. Britt did not troublehimself by consulting the directors in regard to ordinary loans. He waswell settled in his autocracy by virtue of the voting proxies which hehandled for stockholders, although he had only a modest amount of hisown money invested in the stock of the bank. Mr. Britt could use his ownmoney to better advantage. He was permitted to make a one-man bankof the Trust Company because nobody in Egypt ventured to dispute hissapience as a financier. The customers who came that day were plainly having a hard time of itin controlling their desire to share some of their emotions withthe cashier. But Vaniman's stolid countenance did not encourage anyconfidences. Some of the repression he exercised in the case of customers extendedto his communion with Vona during the slack times of the business day. There seemed to be a tacit agreement between them to keep off the topicof what had happened the night before. Words could not have added totheir understanding of their mutual feelings. That understanding hadestablished for them the policy of waiting. Though Frank said but littleto the girl about his talk with the president, he imagined he could feelthe tingle of Britt's handclasp as he remembered the look on Britt'sface, and he pitied the old man. To go on, seizing every opportunity tomake love, would seem like "rubbing it in, " Frank told himself. Healso said something of the sort to Vona, and she agreed with an amiablesmile. And the two of them agreed on one thing, more especially: Tasper Brittmust have had a strange housecleaning of the heart during that vigil inhis home on the hill. Among other convincing evidences of Britt's transformation was histreatment of Prophet Elias at the end of that day. The Prophet did not deliver his usual matutinal taunts in front ofBritt Block. But when he came back from the field in the afternoon, hereturned from conferences with Egyptian skeptics who had not seen TasperBritt in his new form, and therefore, perhaps, their assertions hadcaused Elias to doubt the evidences of his own senses. At any rate, theProphet resolved to put the reform of Pharaoh to the test of texts, andhe raised his voice and declaimed. Britt came to the front door and mildly entreated the Prophet to walkin. "I'll be glad to listen to you. Isn't it a good idea to tell me, manto man, in my office what's wrong with me, instead of standing out therein the snow, telling the neighborhood?" The Prophet went in, having first slapped his hand on his breast, urgingaction, "'Go in, speak unto Pharaoh, king of Egypt, that he let thechildren of Israel go out of his hand. '" He trudged forth, after a time, and walked along slowly toward Usial'shouse, clawing his hand above his ear with the air of a man trying tosolve a perplexing puzzle. CHAPTER XI SACKS AND MOUTHS--ALL SEALED Every now and then the fad of a new trick puzzle--a few bits of twistedwire, or a stick and a string--will as effectually occupy the time of anentire community as a cowbell will take up the undivided attention of acur, if the bell is hitched to the cur's tail. The folks of Egypt had a couple of brain-twisters to solve. What had happened to Tasper Britt? How did it happen that Cashier Vaniman was holding on to his job? His townsfolk knew Britt's character pretty well, and they had much foodfor speculation in his case. There were some who ventured the suggestion that Hittie's remonstratingspirit had come to him in the night watches. Other guesses ran all theway down the scale of probability to the prosaic belief that Britt haddecided that it was not profitable to go on making a fool of himself. Itwas agreed that Britt had a good eye for profit in every line of action;and it was conceded, even by those who did not believe all that was saidabout spiritist influences in these modern days, that if Hittie reallyhad managed to get at him it was likely that her caustic communicationswould knock some of the folly out of him. Egypt did not know Vaniman, the outlander, very well. Gossip about hisreasons for remaining were mostly all guess-so; the folks got absolutelynothing from him on the subject. He did not discuss the matter even withSquire Hexter and Xoa. Frank and Vona had definitely adopted the policyof waiting, and he resolved to take no chances on having that policyprejudiced by anybody carrying random stories to Britt, reports that thecashier had said this or the other. Vaniman took occasion to reassure Mr. Britt on that point, and thelatter had displayed much gratitude. "If you don't hurt _me_, Frank, Iwon't hurt _you_!" Then the usurer's eyes hardened. "Of course I can'texpect you to forget that I threatened to blacken your name in bankingcircles. But in our new understanding I guess we can afford to call it astand-off. " "If I were staying here simply to wheedle you into passing me on witha high testimonial, I'd be playing a selfish game, and that isn't myattitude, sir. I was anxious to get this job. I felt that I had a rightto stand for myself, on my own honesty. But I shall tell the whole storythe next time I apply for a position. I'm getting to understand bigfinanciers better, " he added, with bitterness. "Yes, finance is very touchy on certain points, " admitted the president. "But I'm glad you're not going to do any more talking here in town. You're somewhat of a new man here, and you don't know the folks as Ido. I suppose some talk will have to be made as to why you and I aresticking along together, after you slapped my face in public. You'dbetter let me manage the story. " "You may say what you think is best, Mr. Britt. " "They're a suspicious lot, the men in this town. " The banker surveyedVaniman, making slits of his eyes. "However, I've grown used to all thisrecent talk about me being a fool. If it's also said that I'm a fool forkeeping you here, I won't mind it. And you mustn't mind if it's hintedaround that you're hanging on in the bank because you've got privatereasons that you're not talking about. " The cashier greeted that sentiment with an inquiring frown. "Oh, don't be nervous, Frank!" Mr. Britt flapped his hand, making lightof the matter. He grinned. "I won't set you out as being the leader ofa robber gang. I'm not like the peaked-billed old buzzards of thisplace--bound to say the worst of every stranger. You'd better turn toand hate the critters here, just as I do. " Britt's tones rasped when he said that; his feelings were gettingaway from him. The young man's expression hinted that he was trying toreconcile this rancorous mood with Britt's recent declarations of a newview of life. "What I really meant to say, Frank, was that such has been my feeling inthe past. I'm trying to change my nature. If I forget and slip once in awhile, don't lay it up against me. " After that the president and the cashier in their daily conferencesconfined their discourse to the business of the bank. Britt got into theway of asking Vaniman's advice and of deferring to it when it had beengiven. "You're running the bank. You know the trick better than I do. " Therefore, it was perfectly natural for the president to bring up atopic of the past, a matter where Frank had given advice that had beenscornfully rejected. "I've been thinking over what you said aboutthat stock of hard money in the vault needing a guard. That fool of aStickney has started a lot of gossip, in spite of my warning to him. There's no telling how far the gossip has spread. " "That kind of news travels fast, sir. " Britt showed worry. "Perhaps I undertook too much of a chore for alittle bank like ours. But because we are little and because this townisn't able to support the bank the way I had hoped, I thought I'd turna trick that would net us more of a handy surplus in a modest sort of away. " Britt did not trouble himself to explain to the cashier that, by aprivate arrangement with the city broker, the deal would also turn aneat sum into the pocket of the president of the Egypt Trust Company, hidden in the charge of "commission and expenses, " split with due regardto the feelings of broker and president. "The big fellows are grabbing off twenty-five or thirty per cent intheir foreign money deals, " went on the banker. "Tightening home creditsso as to do it! What's fair for big is fair for little!" "The profit is attractive, surely, " the cashier stated. "Our stockholders have honored me right along, and I'd like to show 'emthat I deserve my reputation as a financier. I'm just finicky enoughto want to clean up the last cent there is in it--and that's why I'mwaiting for the right market. We've got to hold on for a few days, atany rate. But I reckon you feel as I do, that we're taking chances, nowthat gossip is flying high!" "I think the vault should be guarded, Mr. Britt. " "Any suggestions as to a man?" "I don't know the men here well enough to choose. " "And I know 'em so blasted well that I'm in the same box as you are. They're numbheads. " The two men sat and looked at each other in silence; the matter seemedto be hung up right there, like a log stranded on a bank--"jillpoked, "as rivermen say. "There's one way out of it, Frank, " blurted the president. "Nobody careswhen I come or go, nights. I may as well sleep here as in my house, allalone. I'll have a cot put in the back room. " He pointed to a door inthe rear of the bank office. Vaniman came forward with instant and eager proffer. "That's a job forme, Mr. Britt. " In spite of an effort to seem casual, Britt could not keep significanceout of his tone. "It's too bad to pen a young man up of an evening, whenhe can be enjoying himself somewhere. " "It's because I'm young that I'm insisting, sir. " "And I suppose I'm so old that no husky robber would be afraid of me, "returned Britt, dryly. "So you insist, do you?" "I do. " "I must ask you to remember that you're doing it only because you havevolunteered. " "I'll be glad to have you tell the directors that I volunteered andinsisted. " "Very well! We'll have the thing understood, Frank. I wouldn't want tohave 'em think I was obliging you to do more than your work as cashier. " Therefore, Vaniman had a cot brought down from Squire Hexter's house, and borrowed a double-barreled shotgun from the same source. He did notconsider that his new duty entailed any hardship. He had his eveningsfor the pachisi games. Xoa insisted on making a visit to the bank andputting the back room in shape for the lodger. But she vowed that shewas more than ever convinced that money was the root of all evil. Frank's slumbers were undisturbed; he found the temporary arrangementrather convenient than otherwise. He kindled his furnace fire beforegoing to the Squire's for breakfast and Britt Block was thoroughly warmwhen he returned. There was only one break in this routine, one occasion for alarm, andthe alarm was but temporary. Frank heard footsteps in the corridor oneevening after he had come back to the bank from the Squire's house. Almost immediately Mr. Britt used his key and appeared to the young man. "I waited till I was sure you were here, " the president explained. "WhatHexter doesn't know won't hurt him--and I thought I'd better not cometo the house for you. I'm sorry it's so late. " Britt was anxiouslyapologetic. "It isn't very late, sir. " "But it's late, considering what's on my mind, Frank. And now that I'mhere I hate to tell you what my errand is. " He fumbled in his pocket andbrought out a letter, tapped it with his forefinger, and replaced it. "Igot it in the mail after you had gone to supper. " "If it's any matter where I can be of help, sir, you needn't be a bitafraid to speak out. " "You can help, but--" After his hesitation Britt plunged on. "I wroteto that broker that I was feeling a little under the weather and waspostponing my trip to the city, and now that fool of a Barnes writesback that he's starting right behind his letter to come up here toarrange about taking over the specie and closing the deal, because themarket is just right to act. And the through train, the one he'll besure to take, hits Levant about two o'clock to-morrow morning. He asksme to send somebody down to meet him. That's all one of those taxicabpatronizers knows about traveling conditions in the country. Frank, unless you'll volunteer to go I'll have to go myself. I don't want thatman talking all the way up here with old Files's gabby hostler, or withanybody else I send from the village. " Vaniman, even though he tried to make Britt's reasons for the requestseem convincing, could not help feeling that the financier's naturalsecretiveness in matters of personal business was stretched somewhat inthis instance. But he gulped back any hesitation and offered to go onthe errand. "Frank, when I was having my run of foolishness I was sorry that youare young. Now I'm mighty glad of it, " declared Britt. "I can take yourplace in yonder on the cot for the night--and I'm going to do it. ButI'll be frank enough to say that I'd rather you'd ride to Levant andback in a sleigh to-night than do it myself. Go rout up Files's hostler, borrow his fur coat, and bundle up warm. It's good slipping along theroad, and the trip may have a little pep for you, after all. " And, putting away his momentary doubts, Frank reflected on the matterand was honestly glad to vary the monotony of his close confinement tothe bank. So he went and roused Files's hostler, bundled himself in the coat andthe sleigh robes, and made a really joyous experience out of the tripto Levant, under the stars and over the snow that was crisped by thenight's chill. He waited beside the station platform, standing up in the sleigh andpeering eagerly after the train stopped. He called the name, "Mr. Barnes, " until the few sleepy, slouching, countrified passengers whoalighted had passed on their way. It was perfectly apparent that Broker Barnes was not present to answerroll call. And after waiting, in whimsical delay, to make sure that Mr. Barnes hadnot come footing it behind the train, Frank whipped up and drove backto Egypt. He felt no pique; he had enjoyed the outing in the sparklingnight. In the gray dawn he again routed out Files's yawning hostler and turnedthe equipage over to him. "Hope you found it a starry night for a ramble, " suggested the hostler, willing to be informed as to why a bank cashier had been gallivantingaround over the country between days, turning in a sweating horse atbreak of dawn. Vaniman allowed that it was a starry night, all right, and left thetopic there, with a period set to it by the snap of his tone. He went directly to the bank and admitted himself with his keys. President Britt came from the back room, with yawns that matched thoseof the hostler. "What time did Barnes say he'd be down here from the tavern in themorning?" "Mr. Barnes did not come on that train, sir. " "Well, I'll be--" rapped Britt, snapping shut his jaws. "But I haven't minded the trip--I really enjoyed the ride, " insisted themessenger. "Don't tell that to Barnes when he shows up to-night on Ike Jones'sstage, " commanded Britt. "I propose to have a few words to say aboutwhat it means in the country when a city fathead changes his mind aboutthe train he'll take. " He was looking past the cashier while he talked. He turned away and picked up his hat and coat from a chair. "I'll begoing along to my house, I reckon. You'd better catch a cat-nap on thecot. I found it comfortable. I've slept every minute since you've beengone. " Then Britt hurried out, locking the door behind him. CHAPTER XII SOMETHING TO BE EXPLAINED By noon that day, in the lulls between customers at the wicket, Vaniman had had a succession of run-ins with the demon of drowsiness--aparticularly mischievous elf, sometimes, in business hours. Whenever hecaught himself snapping back into wakefulness he found Vona's twinkle ofamusement waiting for him. Once she pointed to the big figures on the day-by-day calendar on thewall. The date was February 21st. "Console yourself, Frank, dear, " sheadvised, teasing him. "The bank will be closed to-morrow and you canmake Washington's Birthday your sleep day! But I do hope you can stayawake at our play this evening. " "The man who invented sleep as a blessing didn't take into account citybrokers who change their minds about trains, " he returned. "I hope oldIke Jones will sing that 'Ring, ting! Foo loo larry, lo day' song of hisall the way coming up from Levant. It'll be about the sort of punishmentthat Behind-time Barnes deserves. " A few minutes later the cashier was jumped out of another incipientnap by the clamor of bells. The two horses that whisked past, pullinga double-seated sleigh, were belted with bells. A big man with alambrequin mustache was filling the rear seat measurably well. Folksrecognized the team as a "let-hitch" from Levant. "Mr. Barnes comes late, but he comes in style and with all his bells, "Vona suggested. The equipage swung up beside the tavern porch and the big man threw offthe robes and stamped in, leaving the driver to take the horses to thestable. Landlord Files had furnished an accompaniment for the clangor of thebells; he was pounding his dinner gong. The new arrival had a foghorn voice and used it in hearty volume intelling Mr. Files that his music was all right and mighty timely! "Andthat alligator seems to be calling for his grub, too, " he remarked, onhis way to hang up his coat. "But he doesn't look any hungrier than Ifeel. " "Room?" inquired the landlord, hopefully, swinging the register book andpulling a pen out of a withered potato. "No room! Just dinner. I expect to be out of here by night. " Mr. Files stabbed the potato with a vicious pen thrust. He knew foodcapacity when he viewed it; there would be some profit from a lodging, but none from a two-shilling meal served to a man who had comparedhimself with that open-mouthed saurian. But the guest grabbed the penstock while it was still vibrating. Hewrote across the book, with great flourishes: "Fremont Starr. State BankExaminer. February 21st. " "A matter of record, landlord! Show's I'm here. Tells the world I washere on date noted. Never can tell when the law will call for records. Hotel registers are fine evidence. Always keep your registers. " "I've had that one eleven years, and it 'ain't been filled up yet, "averred Mr. Files, inspecting the potentate's signature as sourly asif he were estimating by how much the lavish use of ink had reduced thepossible dinner profit. "You're the new appointment, hey? I heard youspeak, one time, over at the political rally in the shire town. " "Both my enemies and my friends would have advised you to stay righthere on your porch--saying that you could hear me just as well, if youdidn't care to make the trip to the shire, " said Mr. Starr, lifting themat of his mustache in a wide smile. "But when they call me 'FoghornFremont' I'm never one mite offended. 'Let your light shine and yourvoice be heard, ' is my motto in politics. " "Shouldn't wonder if it's a good one, when they get to passing aroundthe offices, " admitted Files. He started on his way to the kitchen. At that moment President Britt entered, having answered the gong withthe promptitude of a fireman chasing a box alarm. "What have you on the fire, landlord?" called Mr. Starr, absorbed in thedinner topic. "Boiled dinner!" Britt did not show the enthusiasm that was exhibited by the other guest. "Nothing like a boiled dinner after a long ride, " Mr. Starr affirmed. "Plenty of cabbage with mine, if you'll be so kind!" Files gave Mr. Britt some information that he thought might be ofinterest. "Here's the new bank examiner. Seeing that you probably havebusiness together, I'll set both of you at the same table. " He retired. After the commonplaces of getting acquainted, the two tacked the boileddinner. "Let's see--who's your cashier?" inquired Starr, chewing vigorouslybehind the mask of his mustache. "Young fellow named Vaniman. I have let him take full charge of the bankbusiness. He seems to know all the ropes. " "Poor policy, Britt! Poor policy!" stated the examiner, vehemently. "Nota word to say against Vaniman--" He halted on the word and opened hiseyes on Britt. "Vaniman! A name that sticks. There was a Vaniman ofVerona. Easy to remember! There was some sort of a money snarl, as Irecollect. " "It was the young chap's father. " "And you're letting the son run your bank?" "I'm not the kind that visits the sins of the fathers on the children, "loftily stated the president. "Furthermore, a burnt child dreads thefire. I heard a railroad manager say that a trainman who had let anaccident happen by his negligence was worth twice as much to the road ashe was before. You don't say that I made a bad pick, do you?" "Not a word to say against Vaniman!" repeated Starr, slashing hiscabbage. "I never _guess_ about any proposition--I go at it! But whatI'm saying to you, Britt, is what I'm saying to all the easy-goingcountry-town bankers. 'You may have second editions of the ApostlePaul for your cashiers, ' I say, 'but every time you sign a statement ofcondition without close and careful audit you're bearing false witness. 'And being a new broom that proposes to sweep clean, I'm tempted topoke it just as hard to slack presidents and directors as I am to anembezzling cashier who has been given plenty of rope to run as he wants!_I'm_ on the job _examining_ banks!" He was a vigorous man, ExaminerStarr! He showed it by the way he went at his corned beef. President Britt was perturbed; his eyes shifted; he was even pale. "Ifthat's the way you feel about it, I hope you'll give our little bank agood going-over. I was glad to read of your appointment, Mr. Starr!" "Uncle Whittum isn't on this job any longer, " stated the examiner, notneeding, in Britt's case, as a banker, to dwell upon the lax methods ofthe easy-going predecessor. A half hour later, Starr, with his unbuttoned fur-lined overcoatoutspread as he strode, giving him the aspect of a scaling aeroplane, marched from the tavern to the bank with Britt. Vaniman had his mouth opened to welcome a man named Barnes, but hewas presented to Bank-Examiner Starr and surprise placed him at adisadvantage in the meeting. The torpor of drowsiness made him appearstupid and ill at ease in the presence of this forceful man who stampedin and proceeded to exploit and enjoy his newly acquired authority. Mr. Starr hung up his coat and hat and swooped like a hawk on the daybook, at the same time calling for the book of "petty cash. " "First of all, the finger on the pulse of the patient, Cashier, " hedeclared, grimly jovial. "Then we'll have a look at the tongue, andstudy the other symptoms. " President Britt went away to his own office. Examiner Starr, confining himself to his announced policy of grabbingin on the running operations of the bank at the moment of his entry, studied the petty-cash accounts and checked up the daybook withthoroughness. He found everything all right and grunted hisacknowledgment of that discovery. Then he began on the ledgers, assuring Vona with ponderous gallantrythat he wouldn't get in her way; he averred that he had a comparisonsystem of his own, and showed the pride of "the new broom. " After a time it was apparent that Mr. Starr was having trouble. Headded columns of figures over again and scowled; his system was plainlytrigged. "Young lady, where's your comptometer?" he demanded, after he had made aquick survey of the office. "We have never used one, sir. " "One is indispensable these days in a bank--especially when a bookkeepercan't add a column of figures correctly by the old method. " She flushed and her lips quivered. "I'm sure I do add correctly, sir. Mybooks always balance. " "Add that column, young lady!" He indicated the column with the plungingpressure of a stubby digit, and stood so close to her, while she toiledup the line of figures, that his breath fanned her hair. Vaniman looked on, sympathizing, feeling sure that the bluff inquisitorhad made a mistake of his own. Her confusion under Starr's baleful espionage sent her wits scattering. She jotted down the total, as she made it. "Wrong!" announced the examiner. "And your figures are different, even, from the wrong total you have on the books. Try again. " She set her lips and controlled her emotions and went over the work oncemore. Starr exhibited figures which he had jotted on a bit of paper that hehad palmed. "You're right, as the figures stand! But your book totaldoesn't agree with those figures. Now what say?" Vona was distinctly in no condition to say anything sensible; she staredfrom the figures to Starr, showing utter amazement, and then she mutelyappealed to the cashier. "I'm sure that Miss Harnden is remarkably accurate in her work, Mr. Starr, " asserted the young man. "I have been in the habit of going overit, myself, and I have found no errors. " "Oh, you go over it, do you? That's good!" But Starr's tone was not oneof satisfied indorsement. He picked up the big book and carried it tothe center table. He fished from his waistcoat pocket a small readingglass, unfolded the lenses, and studied the page. He turned other pagesand performed the same minute inspection. Then he took the ledger to thewindow and held page after page against the glass, propping the book inhis big hands. When he turned, Vona was sitting in a chair, trembling, tears in hereyes, apprehension ridging her face. "Cashier Vaniman, I don't want to hurt this young lady's feelings anymore than I have. There's no sense in blaming her until I understand thewhich and the why of this thing. I have found column after column addedwrongly. Perhaps she has done her work, originally, all right. But thepages of this ledger are pretty well speckled with erasures. The two ofyou will have to thresh it out between yourselves. I'm looking to youas the responsible party in this bank, Vaniman. I'll do the rest of mytalking to you. After you have found out what the trouble is you mustexplain to me. " "There can be no trouble with our books!" But the cashier stammered; hisincredulity would not permit him to discuss the matter then or to offerany sort of explanation; in his amazement he could not think of anypossible explanation. He could not convince himself that Vona neededother protection than her own thoroughness and rectitude gave her;however, he wanted to extend his protection. "If anything is wrong with the accounts, you may most certainly look tome, Mr. Starr. I assume full responsibility. I have found Miss Harndento be most accurate. " "I ought to have been through with this small bank and away by night, "grumbled the examiner. "But I'm going to give you a fair show, Vaniman, by waiting over. You've got this evening--and to-morrow is a holiday, and you can take that day, if you need it, to get this tanglestraightened out. I'm stopping my work right here. " He slammed theledger shut and tossed it on the girl's desk. "There's no sense in goingthrough your cash in the vault till I can check by the book accounts. But, bless my soul! I can't understand by what rhyme or reason thosefigures have been put into the muddle they're in. It's coarse work. I'llbe frank and say that it doesn't look like a sane man's attempt to putsomething over. That's why I'm lenient with you and am not sticking oneof my closure notices on to your front door. Now get busy, so that youcan be sure it won't go up on the door day after to-morrow. " He took down his coat and hat and when he left the room they heard himgo into Tasper Britt's office across the corridor. The stricken lovers faced each other, appalled, mystified, questioningwith the looks they exchanged. "Frank, " the girl wailed, "you know I haven't--" "I know you have been faithful and careful, in every stroke of your pen, dear. Whatever it is, it's not your fault. " "But what has happened to the books?" she queried, winking back hertears, trying hard to meet him on the plane of his calmness; he wasgetting his feelings in hand. "I propose to find out before I close my eyes this night, " he told her, gravely. CHAPTER XIII MISFORTUNE MEDDLES Shortly before the supper hour, Britt and Starr came into the bank;they wore their overcoats and hats, and were on their way to the tavern, evidently. "How are you making it, Frank?" the president inquired, with solicitude. A sympathetic observer would have found a suggestion of captives, cagedand hopeless, in the demeanor of the cashier and the bookkeeper behindthe grille. Vaniman peered through the lattice into the gloom where the callersstood and shook his head. "I'm not making it well at all, sir. " "But you must have some idea of what the trouble is. " "There's trouble, all right, Mr. Britt--plenty of it. There's no usein my denying that. But I'm not far enough along to give any sensibleexplanation. " The president showed real anxiety. "What do you say for a guess?" "If you are asking me only for a guess, I should say that the ghost ofJim the Penman has been amusing himself with these books, " replied thecashier; he was bitter; he was showing the effects of worry that wasaggravated by lack of sleep. "Aha! Plainly not far enough along for a sensible explanation, " rumbledExaminer Starr. "A knave is usually ready with a good story when he has been taken bysurprise. Honesty isn't as handy with the tongue. I can only say thatsomething--I don't say somebody--has put these books into a devil of amess, and I'm doing my best to straighten them. " "I wish you luck, " affirmed Starr. "I've been talking with yourpresident and he says everything good about your faithfulness, and abouthow you have been doing guard duty in the bank of late. Perhaps you're asleepwalker, Vaniman, " he added, with heavy humor. "I feel like one now, " retorted the cashier. "I was awake all lastnight. " "Ah! Doing what?" asked the examiner, politely, but without interest. The question hinted that in the talk in Britt's office the president hadrefrained from mention of Barnes, the broker. Vaniman decided instantlyto respect Britt's reticence; the president had shown much cautionthe night before, even in regard to Squire Hexter. "Oh, merely runningaround on a little business of my own, Mr. Starr. " Britt did not assist by any reference to his own share in the business. "We may as well start along toward the tavern, Starr. " The presidenttook two steps toward the grille and addressed Vona. "I'm going to takeMr. Starr to the show this evening. I want him to see what smart girlswe have in Egypt. " Vona did not reply. She turned to Vaniman with the air of one who hassuddenly been reminded of something forgotten in the stress of affairs. But before she had an opportunity to speak there was a tramping of hastyfeet in the corridor and her father came in through the door thathad been left ajar by Britt. "Good evening, all!" hailed Mr. Harnden, cheerily. "But, see here, Vona, my dear girl, we have been waitingsupper a whole half hour. You've got scant time to eat and get on yourstage togs. " "This has been a pretty busy day in the bank, Harnden, " explained Britt. "Meet Mr. Starr, the bank examiner!" "Oh, hullo, Starr!" cried Mr. Harnden, shoving out a friendly hand. "Heard you were in town. I know Starr, " he told Britt. "I know everybodyin the state worth knowing. I told you so. " Mr. Starr was not effusive; there was a hint of sarcasm in his inquiryas to how the invention business was coming along. "Fine and flourishing!" announced Harnden, radiantly. Then he blurtedsome news which seemed to embarrass Britt very much; the news alsoprovoked intense interest in Vaniman and the daughter. "All I've everneeded is backing, Starr. Now I've got it!" He clapped his hand on thebanker's shoulder. "Here's my backer--good as a certified check. Hey, Tasper?" "I'm--I'm always ready to help develop local talent, " Britt admitted, stammering, turning his back on the faces at the grille. "Starr, we'dbetter get along toward the tavern. I've had some poor luck with Fileswhen he's off his schedule time!" "The new combination of Harnden and Britt will make 'em sit up and takenotice, " persisted the inventor. Forgetting Vona, desiring to impress askeptic from the outside world, he followed Starr and the banker. Vaniman and the girl listened to the optimist's fervid declarations tillthe slam of the outside door shut them off. "That sounds like an interesting investment, Vona, " was the cashier'sdry comment. "Mr. Britt seems to be swinging that watering pot of hisnew generosity around in pretty reckless fashion. I wonder what he'll donext!" "Frank, I'm afraid!" She spoke in a whisper, staring hard at him. "No, no! Not what you think! I am not afraid because he is buying my father. If Mr. Britt thinks I can be included in that bargain he is wiserin making his money than he is in spending it. But there's somethingdreadful at work against us!" She had her hand on the page of an openledger. "The books can be straightened, " he insisted. "I can do it. I'll do it, if I have to call in every depositor's pass book. " He pointed to thevault. He was keeping the doors open till his work was done. "As long asthe money is there, every cent of it, the final checking will show foritself. And the money will be there! I'm answering for that much! Ipropose to stay with it till that Barnes shows up. " "I remember now that you told me he would come by the stage to-day. " "So Britt gave me to understand, when I reported that he didn't come onthe night train. " "But I looked out of the window a little while ago--there was nopassenger with Jones. " "Has the stage come?" He glanced at the clock and blinked at the girl. "Well, I guess those books had me hypnotized!" "Small wonder, " she said, bitterly. "I tell you I'm afraid, Frank!There's something we don't see through!" "I don't dare to waste any more time wondering what the trouble is, Vona. I must get on to the job. " "Both of us must. " "It's time for you to be going home. " "I'm going to stay here. " "But, dear girl, there's the play! You have the leading part!" "The words will stick in my throat and tears will blind me when I thinkof you working here alone. Frank, I insist! I will not leave you. Theymust postpone the play. " He went to her and laid her hands, one upon the other, between hiscaressing palms. "The folks will be there--they are expecting theplay--you must not disappoint them. It's as much your duty to go to thehall as it is mine to stay here with the books. And another thing! Thinkof the stories that will be set going, with the bank examiner here, ifit's given out that the play had to be postponed because you couldn'tleave the books. Such a report might start a run on the bank. Folkswould be sure to think there's trouble here. You must go, Vona. It's forthe sake of both of us. " He went and brought her coat and hat. "I can't go through with the play, " she wailed. "We've got to use all the grit that's in us--whatever it is we're upagainst. Come! Hold out your arms!" He assisted her with the coat. He drew her toward the door with his arm about her. "We'll make a goodlong day of it to-morrow--a holiday. George Washington never told a lie. Perhaps those books will come to themselves in the morning and realizewhat day it is and will stop lying! Now be brave!" The kiss he gave her was long and tender; she clung to him. He releasedher, but she turned in the corridor and hurried back to him. "Ishouldn't feel as I do--worried sick about you, Frank! The books mustcome out right, because both of us have been careful and honest. " "Exactly! The thing will prove itself in the end. The money in thatvault will talk for us! I'll do a little talking, myself, when--But nomatter now!" "You have suspicions! I know you have!" "Naturally, not believing as much in ghosts or demons as I may haveintimated to Starr. " She looked apprehensively over her shoulder into the dark corners of thecorridor. Then she drew his face down close to hers. "And it's hard tobelieve in the reformation of demons, " she whispered. "I'm doing a whole lot of thinking, little girl. But I don't wantto talk now. Do your best at the play. Hide your troubles behindsmiles--that's real fighting! And we'll see what to-morrow will do forus. " "Yes, to-morrow!" She ran away, but again she returned. "And nothingcan happen to you here, in a quiet town like this, can it, Frank?" sheasked. "Nothing but what can be taken care of with that shotgun in the backroom! But don't look frightened, precious girl! There's nothing--" But even Vaniman was startled, the next moment. The girl leaped into hisembrace and cowered. Something was clattering against a window ofthe bank. But only the mild face of Squire Hexter was framed in thelamplight cast on the window. He called, when he got a peep at thecashier, who came hastening back inside the grille: "Supper, boy!Supper! Come along!" Frank threw up the window. "I'll make what's left over from my lunch dome, Squire. I'm tied up here with my work. " "I'll allow the new Starr in our local sky to keep you away fromeuchre, " the Squire grumbled, "but I swanny if I'll let your interest inastronomy, all of a sudden, keep you away from the hot vittles you need. You come along with me to the house. " "Squire, I can't lock the vault yet awhile. I don't want to leave thingsas they are. I must not. " Vona had come to his side, she understood the nature of his anxiety. "Iam just starting for my house, Squire Hexter. I'm going to hurry backwith Frank's supper, so that he won't be bothered. " "Bless your soul, sis, even Xoa will be perfectly satisfied with thatarrangement when I explain, " said the Squire, gallantly. "I'm tempted tostay, myself, if Hebe is going to serve. " He backed away and did a grandsalaam, flourishing the cane whose taps on the window had startled thelovers. "You must not take the time, Vona, " protested the young man. "I'll bring the supper when I'm on my way to the hall. Not another word!If I'm to lose the best part of my audience from the hall to-night, I can, at least, have that best part give me a compliment on my newgown--and give me, " she went on, reassuring him by a brave little smile, "a whole lot of courage by a dear kiss. " She hurried away. He was hard at work when she returned, carrying a wicker basket. Again he protested because she was taking so much trouble, but she laidaside her coat and insisted on arranging the food on a corner of thetable, a happy flush on her cheeks, giving him thanks with her eyes whenhe praised her gown. "I'm going to look in on you after the show, " she declared. "Father willcome with me. " Vona remained with him until the wall clock warned her. She asked him to wait a moment when he brought her wraps. She stoodbefore him in her gay garb, wistfully appealing. "Frank, I was intendingto have a little play of my own with you at the hall to-night. I wasgoing to look right past that Durgin boy, straight down into your eyes, when I came to a certain place in the play. I was intending to let thefolks of Egypt know something, providing they all don't know it by now. This is what I have to say, and now I'm saying it to the only audience Icare for: "'Twere vain to tell thee all I feel, Or say for thee I'd die. Ah, well-a-day, the sweetest melody Could never, never say one half my love for thee. " Then, after a moment, she escaped from his ardent embrace. "Remember that, dearest, " she called from the doorway. "I'll remember it every time I start with a line of figures, you blessedgirl. And then how my pencil will go dancing up the column!" After she had gone he pulled the curtain cords, raising the curtains sothat they covered the lower sashes; he did not care to be seen at hiswork by the folks who were on their way to the hall. Squire Hexter, escorting Xoa, took the trouble to step to the window andtap lightly with his cane. He was hoping that the cashier would changehis mind and go to the hall. He waited after tapping but Vaniman did notappear at the window. The Squire did not venture to tap again. "He mustbe pretty well taken up with his work, " he suggested to Xoa when theywere on their way. "That's where we get the saying, 'Deaf as an adder. '" Oblivious to all sounds, bent over his task, Vaniman gave to theexasperating puzzle all the concentration he could muster. The play that evening at Town Hall dragged after the fashion of amateurshows. The management of the sets and the properties consumed muchtime. There were mishaps. One of these accidents had to do with themost ambitious scene of the piece, a real brook--the main feature ofthe final, grand tableau when folks were trying to keep awake at eleveno'clock. The brook came babbling down over rocks and was conveyedoff-stage by means of a V-shaped spout. There was much merriment whenthe audience discovered that the brook could be heard running uphillbehind the scenes; two hobble-de-hoy boys were dipping the water withpails from the washboiler at the end of the sluice and lugging itupstairs, where they dumped it into the brook's fount. The brook'speripatetic qualities were emphasized when both boys fell off the top ofthe makeshift stairs and came down over the rocks, pails and all. Thenthere was hilarity which fairly rocked the hall. For some moments another sound--a sound which did not harmonize with thelaughter--was disregarded by the audience. All at once the folks realized that a man was squallingdiscordantly--his shrieks almost as shrill as a frightened porker'ssqueals. Heads were snapped around. Eyes saw Dorsey, the municipalwatchman, almost the only man of the village of Egypt who was not ofthe evening's audience in Town Hall. He was standing on a settee atthe extreme rear of the auditorium. He was swinging his arms wildly; aswildly was he shouting. He noted that he had secured their attention. "How in damnation can you laugh" he screamed. "The bank has been robbedand the cashier murdered!" CHAPTER XIV A BANK TURNED INSIDE OUT When the skeow-wowed "brook" twisted the drama into an anticlimax ofcomicality, the players who were on the stage escaped the deluge byfleeing into the wings. Vona had been waiting for her cue to join the hero and pledge their vowsbeside the babbling stream. After one horrified gasp of amazement, sheled off the hilarity back-stage. Frank was in her mind at that moment, as he had been all the evening; her zestful enjoyment of the affair washeightened by the thought that she could help him forget his troublesfor a little while by the story she would carry to him. Then she and theothers in the group heard the piercing squeals of a man's voice. "Somebody has got hystierucks out of it, and I don't blame him, " statedthe manager of the show. He grabbed the handle of the winch and began tolet down the curtain. "I reckon the only sensible thing to do is to letBrook Number One and Brook Number Two take the curtain call. " Then Dorsey's shrill insistence prevailed over the roars of laughter infront; the young folks on the stage heard his bloodcurdling bulletin. The manager let slip the whirling handle and the pole of the hurryingcurtain thumped the platform. Vona had leaped, risking her life, and wasable to dodge under the descending pole. For a moment, sick with horrorand unutterable woe, she stood there alone against the tawdry curtain, as wide-eyed and white-faced as Tragedy's muse. Men, women, and children, all the folks of Egypt, were struggling totheir feet; the sliding settees squawked and clattered. She saw Tasper Britt, fighting a path for himself, Starr following. Britt's face, above his blackened beard, was yellow-pale. Panic was piling the people at the narrow rear doors; the weight ofthose who were rushing forward wedged all the mass at the exits. "Vona!" called the manager, pulling at the edge of the curtain to giveher passage. "This way! The side door. " The summons helped to put away her faintness; her strength came backto her. Her goal was the bank! In the frenzy of her solicitude for herlover she took no thought of herself. The others stopped to find their wraps. Vona ran down the street as shewas, bareheaded, the ribbons of her stage finery fluttering. She wasclose behind the first arrivals at the open door of Britt Block. All theother portals were wide open, bank door and grille door. But the door ofthe vault was closed. She thrust herself resolutely through the group of men and made afrenzied survey of the bank's interior. Her single quest was forVaniman; he was nowhere in sight. The books of account were open on thedesk, mute evidence for her that he had been interrupted suddenly. She voiced demands in shrill tones, but the men had no information forher. She called his name wildly and there was no reply. "I found the outside door open, " said Dorsey, raucously hoarse. "I camein, and all was just as you see it. " "But you said that he--that Frank--" Vona pressed her hands against herthroat; she could not voice the terrible announcement that Dorsey hadmade. "Well, if it ain't that, what else is it?" insisted the watchman. Then Tasper Britt arrived in the room, followed by the bank examiner;they entered, breathing heavily and running with the tread ofPercherons. "If it ain't murder and robbery, what is it, Mr. Britt?" Dorsey bawled, evidently feeling the authority was then on the scene and was demandingreport and action. "I don't know--I don't know!" the president quavered, staggering tothe grille and clutching the wires with both hands in order to steadyhimself. He was palpably, unmistakably stricken with a fear that wasoverpowering him. The outer office was filling; the corridor was being packed by thearriving throngs. Examiner Starr took command of the situation. He noted the nickel badgeon Dorsey's breast. "Officer, put every person except Mr. Britt out ofthis building!" But Watchman Dorsey, though he commanded and pushed, was not able tomake any impression. "By my authority as bank examiner, I order this place cleared!" bellowedMr. Starr. The folks of Egypt showed that they were greatly interestedin the volume of voice possessed by "Foghorn Fremont, " but they did notretreat. For that matter, the crowd in the room was thoroughly blockedat the door by the press in the corridor. Starr's attention was wholly taken up by one individual for the next fewminutes. Prophet Elias boldly advanced, after worming his way out ofthe throng; he pushed the examiner aside from the door of the grille andwent into the inner inclosure. An intruder who was prosaically garbedwould not have prevailed as easily as this bizarre individual with thedeep-set eyes, assertive mien, and wearing a robe that put him outof the ordinary run of humanity. But Mr. Starr got back his voice andordered the Prophet to walk out. Elias turned slowly and faced Starr. The Prophet's feet were hidden bythe robe and he came around with the effect of a window dummy revolvingon a support. Starr bawled more furious demands. But the Prophet did not lower his crest. "'Many bulls have compassedme: strong bulls of Bashan have beset me round. They gaped upon me withtheir mouths, as a ravening and a roaring lion. '" Then the Prophet spatted his palm upon the legend on his breast andclacked a disdainful digit off the pivot of his thumb. Tasper Britt, even in his hottest ire, had been restrained in the past by someinfluence from laying violent hands on this peculiar personage. It wasevident that Starr was controlled by a similar reluctance and that hisforbearance was puzzling him. When the Prophet got down on his knees, Starr was silent; it looked as if this zealot intended to offerprayer--and the bank examiner did not care to earn the reputation ofbeing a disturber of a religious gathering. But Elias doubled over andbegan to crawl around the room on his hands and knees, peeringintently and cocking his ear and seeming to take much interest in hisundertaking. Until then, in the rush of events, in the haste of gathering at thescene of the tragedy, in the wild uncertainty as to what had happened, nobody had taken the time to study the details of the conditions in thebank inclosure. Starr ordered Dorsey to stand in front of the grille door and keep outall persons. The examiner was obliged to urge Britt to unclasp his handsand follow him before the door was closed and locked against the crowd. Vona had stumbled to a chair; she was staring about her, trying tocontrol her horror and steady her mind so that she might comprehend whathad happened. Under a stool she saw a crumpled coat; she leaped from herchair, secured it, and sat down again. It was Frank's office coat; bothsleeves were ripped and the back breadths were torn. She held it forwardin her shaking hands for the inspection of the bank examiner. But Mr. Starr was too intent on other matters to take heed of the pathetic proofof violence. He was particularly concerned with what he had found in onecorner. Literally, thousands of small metal disks were heaped and scatteredthere. Some of the disks had rolled to all parts of the room. TheProphet had been scraping up handfuls of them, inspecting them, andthrowing them toward the corner where the main mass lay. Starr picked up some of them. They were iron; each disk was perforated. There were many canvas sacks near the heap of disks; the sacks wereripped and empty. Mr. Starr secured one of them. Its mouth was closedwith the seal with which specie sacks are usually secured. But Mr. Starr saw something else in the corner, an object at which hepeered; the gloom made the results of his scrutiny uncertain. Hestooped and picked up that object, making it the third of the trinityof exhibits. It was a large square of pasteboard, the backing of anadvertising calendar. Starr carried it to the lamp on the table. Therewas writing on the placard. The characters were large and sprawling. The bank examiner tapped his finger on the writing, calling for theattention of the anguished president. The legend read: This is a _hell_ of a bank! "Britt, if this is a sample of your whole stock of specie, " Starrrumbled, holding a disk between thumb and forefinger, "the profanity issort of excused by the emphasis needed. I really think I would have beenobliged to say the same, after counting up. " "I can't understand it, " the president muttered. "Did you suppose you carried actual coin in those bags?" "Yes--gold and some silver. " "Had you counted it?" "I left the checking up to the cashier. " "Where do you think your cashier is, right now?" Britt flapped his hands, helplessly confessing that he did not know. In all the room there was a profound hush. The crowd had been strainingaural nerves, trying to hear what was being said by the men inauthority. Nobody had been paying any attention to Prophet Elias, who had beencrawling like a torpid caterpillar. For some moments he had been rigidlymotionless in one spot. He was leaning against the front of the vault, his ear closely pressed to the crevice at the base of the door. He straightened up on his knees and shouted in such stentorian tonesthat all in the room jerked their muscles in sudden fright. "Swine!Fools!" They gaped at him. "Whilst you're shouting amongst your trash a man is dying on the otherside of the door!" Vona leaped from her chair. She shrieked. She ran to the door and beather fists against the steel, futilely and furiously. "In there lies your money-changer, I tell you, Pharaoh, lord of Egypt, "the Prophet shouted. "I hear his groans!" Britt and Starr rushed to the vault and both of them strove clumsily andineffectually with the mechanism, giving up their attempts after a fewmoments. "It's no use!" Britt gulped. "The time lock must be on. " "Oh, for the rod of Moses and the ancient faith that smote the rock intwain!" pleaded the Prophet. "We'd better use rendrock, seeing that we can't depend on a miracle, "called a practical citizen from behind the grille. "Get sledge hammers and chisels, " shouted somebody else, and therefollowed a surging of the throng, indicating that concerted action wasfollowing the suggestion. The face of the president was twisted by grimaces which resembledspasms. "Wait! Wait a moment! There may be a way!" he called, chokingly. "Let me out through there!" Then Vona gave over her insane efforts to pry open the vault door withher finger nails. She ran out past Starr, who stopped to lock the grilledoor. The examiner was too much taken up by other matters to bother withthe Prophet, who held to his place at the vault door and was intentlyscrutinizing something which he found of interest. Vona forced herself through the press, in company with Starr, and was atBritt's elbow when he unlocked his office door. He tried to keep her outand called to Dorsey. But she slipped past while the door was open toadmit Starr's bulky form. Inside, she turned on Britt, who was in thedoorway. "You don't dare to keep me out, Mr. Britt!" She stamped her foot. Hereyes blazed. "You don't dare!" He blinked and entered and locked the door. CHAPTER XV VIA THE PRESIDENT'S PRIVATE WAY There was a hanging lamp in Britt's office, and the president hastenedto light it. "Do you mean to say that there's another way of entering that bankvault?" Starr demanded when Britt began to twirl the knob of a steeldoor that guarded his private vault. "I'm beginning to think that thefellow who wrote on that placard had this joint sized up mighty well. " Britt went on with the working of the combination. He was deeplystirred; his excitement had made his temper touchy. "I know of no reasonwhy the president of a bank isn't allowed access to the vault. " "Perhaps not, under proper conditions, but we'll discuss that matterlater, Britt. Right now I'm all-fired glad you can get in. " He sneeredwhen he added, "Perhaps a regular, time-locked vault does need a safetyoutlet. I may recommend it for all state banks. " Vona took her stand close to the door, trembling with passionateeagerness. Constantly she appealed to Britt to hurry. When he finallyswung open the door she leaped into the vault. He dragged her back, handling her roughly, harshly telling her that it was no place for agirl. "I don't think it is, either, " agreed Starr. "We seem to haveconsiderable love mixed in with this situation, young woman, but this isnot the time for it. " He crowded past her, at the back of Britt. The man ahead stopped and fumbled at what seemed to be a wall ofconcrete; he pushed open a narrow door which fitted so closely that ithad seemed to be a part of the wall. Mr. Starr grunted. There was a passage at the right of the inner safe. The light from thelamp outside shed dim radiance. Britt descended a short flight of cementsteps, and Starr, following groping with his feet, realized that theway led under the floor of the corridor. He was obliged to crouch almostdouble in order to avoid the ceiling. There was another flight of stairs leading up to the floor level. The two men, mounting the stairs, heard groans. Vona, undeterred by her treatment, had followed closely on Starr'sheels. She urged them to hurry, calling hysterically. Again the man ahead fumbled at what seemed to be solid wall. Again hewas able to open a door of concrete. But Britt, when he was through the narrow door in the lead, was blockedand stopped. He lighted a match. One leaf of the double doors of theinner safe of the bank vault was flung back across the narrow passage. He dropped the stub of the match and pushed. The door moved only a fewinches; it was opposed by something on the other side. The presidentlighted another match and held it while he peered over the door; therewas a space between the top of the door and the ceiling. "It's Vaniman, "he reported, huskily. "He's lying against this door. I can't push it anyfurther. He's wedged against the front of the vault. " Then Starr lighted a match. He noted that the space above the door wastoo narrow for his bulk or Britt's. "Go tell the guard to send in a chap that's slim and spry, " the examinercommanded the girl. "We've got to boost somebody in over that door. " "I'll go. I must go. I'm bound and determined to go!" she insisted, pulling at him, trying to crowd past him. But it was necessary for Starr and Britt to follow her to the widerspace below the corridor in order to allow her to pass them. Theydemurred, still, but she hurried back up the stairs. Britt knelt andgave her his shoulders to serve as a mounting block. She swung herselfover the door, and by the light of the match that Starr held she wasable to avoid stepping on the prostrate figure when she lowered herselfto the floor. The men outside in the passage detected the odor of chloroform. "I have lifted him, " the girl cried. "Push back the door. " Britt obeyed. Then he and Starr took the unconscious cashier byshoulders and heels and carried him to the private office. Britt's office conveniences did not include a couch; the men proppedVaniman in the desk chair and Vona crouched beside him and took his headon her shoulder. There were no visible marks of injury. He gave off the scent ofchloroform. His wrists were crossed in front of him and were securedwith a noose of tape. Starr picked up shears from Britt's desk and cutthe tape. "Where's your doctor? Get him in here. " "He lives in another part of the town. I didn't see him at the hallto-night, " said Britt. "I'll send for him. " But Vaniman began to show such promising symptoms that the presidentdelayed the message. There seemed to be magic in the touch of Vona's caressing palm on thestricken man's forehead; the words she was murmuring in his ear werestirring his faculties. He opened his eyes and stared at her and at thetwo men, vague wonderment in his expression. "What is it--what has happened?" he muttered. "That's what we want to know, " said Starr. "What did happen? Who gotafoul of you?" "I don't know. Who brought me in here?" "We got you out of the bank vault and brought you here by the way ofBritt's private passage. " Vaniman seemed to find that statement unconvincing. "He didn't know about that passage, " stammered the president. "I--Inever bothered to speak about it. I suppose I ought to have told you, Frank. That cement panel is a door--with the handle on this side. " The cashier shook his head slowly, as if giving up the attempt tounderstand. "I guess the panel fits so closely that you never noticed it was adoor, " Britt went on, with the manner of one trying to set himselfright. "I meant to tell you about it. " "But what happened?" the examiner insisted. "I don't know, sir. " "Look here! You must know something!" "Mr. Starr, this is no time to shout and bellow at this poor boy who hasbarely got his senses back, " Vona protested, indignantly. "You mustn't blame Mr. Starr, dear, " said the cashier, patting her hand. "Of course, he and Mr. Britt are much stirred up over the thing. I'm nottrying to hide anything, gentlemen. You say you found me in the vault!What is the condition of things in the bank?" He struggled and sat upstraighter in the chair. He was showing intense anxiety as his sensescleared. Examiner Starr, though present officially, was in no mood to make anyreport on bank conditions just then. "Vaniman, you'd better do yourtalking first. " "I'll tell all I know about it. I was working on the books, my attentionvery much taken up, of course. I felt a sudden shock, as I remember it. Everything went black. As to what has been going on from that moment, whenever it was, till I woke up here, I'll have to depend on you forinformation. " "That's straight, is it?" demanded the examiner, grimly. "On my honor, sir. " "There's a lot to be opened out and what you have said doesn't help. " "I wish I could help more. I understand fully what a fix I'm in unlessthis whole muddle is cleared up, " confessed the cashier, plaintively. Hehad been putting his hand to his head. "I think I must have been stunnedby a blow. " Starr, without asking permission, ran his hand over Vaniman's head. "Noespecially big lump anywhere!" Vaniman spanned a space on his head between thumb and forefinger. "Ifeel a particular ache right about there, sir. " "Britt, get down that lamp!" The president brought the lamp from the hanging bracket and held itclose to Vaniman's head while Starr carefully parted the hair andinspected. "There's a red strip, but it's not much swollen, " hereported. "Of course, we know all about those rubber wallopersthat--But this is not a time for guesswork. Now, Vaniman, how about thischloroform odor? Remember anything about an attempt to snuff you thatway?" "No, sir!" "Why don't you wait until to-morrow and let Frank's mind clear up?"Vona pleaded. She had been standing with her arm about the young man'sshoulders, insisting on holding her position even when Starr crowdedclose in making his survey of the cashier's cranium. "Young woman, the first statements in any affair are the best statementswhen there's a general, all-round desire to get to bottom facts, " saidthe examiner, sternly. "That's my desire, sir, " declared Vaniman, earnestly. "But I have toldyou all I know. " President Britt had replaced the lamp in the bracket. He waited for amoment while Starr regarded the cashier with uncompromising stare, as ifmeditating a more determined onslaught in the way of the third degree. Britt, restraining himself during the interview, had managed to steadyhimself somewhat, but he was much perturbed. He ventured to put in aword. "Mr. Starr, don't you think that Vona's idea is a good one--giveFrank a good night's rest? He may be able to tell us a whole lot more inthe morning. " Then the bank examiner delivered the crusher that he had been holdingin reserve. "Vaniman, you may be able to tell me in the morning, if notnow, how it happens that all your specie bags were filled with--not withthe gold coin that ought to have been there, but with"--Starr advancedclose to the cashier and shook a big finger--"mere metal disks!" Heshouted the last words. Whether Starr perceived any proof of innocence in Vaniman'sexpression--mouth opening, eyes wide, face white with the pallor ofthreatened collapse--the bank examiner did not reveal by any expressionof his own. "This is wicked--wicked!" gasped Vona. "Young woman, step away!" Starr yanked her arm from Vaniman's shoulderand pushed her to one side. "Did you know _that_, Mr. Cashier--suspectthat--have any least idea of that?" "I did not know it, sir. " "Why didn't you know it?" Vaniman tried to say something sensible about this astounding conditionof affairs and failed to utter a word, he shook his head. "How had you verified the specie?" "By checking the sacks as received--by weighing them. " "Expect somebody else to take 'em in the course of business on the samebasis?" "I was intending--" Starr waited for the explanation and then urged the cashier out of hissilence. "I intended to have President Britt and a committee of the directorscount up the coin with me, sir. But it can't be possible--not with theSub-treasury seal--not after--" "If you're able to walk, you'd better go over into the bank and takea look at what was in those sacks, Mr. Cashier. " The examiner put asardonic twist upon the appellation. "The sight may help your thoughtswhile you are running over the matter in your mind between now andto-morrow morning. " Vaniman rose from the chair. He was flushed. "Mr. Starr, I protestagainst this attitude you're taking! From the very start you have actedas if I am a guilty man--guilty of falsifying accounts, and now ofstealing the bank's money. " There was so much fire in Vaniman's resentment that Starr was taken downa few pegs. He replied in a milder tone: "I don't intend to put any nameon to the thing as it stands. But I'm here to examine a bank, and I finda combination of crazy bookkeeping and a junk shop. My feelings are tobe excused. " "I'll admit that, sir. But you found something else! You found me in thevault, you say. It is plain that I was shut in that vault with the timelock on; otherwise it wouldn't have been necessary to lug me out by thatother way, whatever it is!" He snapped accusatory gesture at theopen door of Britt's vault and flashed equally accusatory gaze at thepresident. "Do you think I was trying to commit suicide by that kind oflingering agony?" "Seeing how you admit that you excuse my feelings, Vaniman, I'll admit, for my part, that you've certainly got me on that point. It doesn't looklike a sensible plan of doing away with yourself, provided there isany sense in suicide, anyway! You say you were not aware of Mr. Britt'sprivate passage?" he quizzed. "Most certainly I knew nothing about it. " "I suppose, however, the vault door is time-locked. To be sure, we werepretty much excited when we tried to open it--" "Verily, ye were!" The voice was deep and solemn. The sound jumped the four persons inBritt's office. Framed in the door of Britt's vault was Prophet Elias. "How did you get in here?" thundered "Foghorn Fremont, " first to get hisvoice. "Not by smiting with the rod of Moses, " returned the Prophet, considerable ire in his tone. "I pulled open the door of the bank vaultand walked in. " "Britt, you'd better put up a sign of 'Lunatic Avenue' over that passageand invite a general parade through, " barked Starr. "I've had plenty ofnightmares in my life, but never anything to equal this one, take it byand large!" It was evident from President Britt's countenance that a great manyemotions were struggling in him; but the prevailing expression--the onewhich seemed to embrace all the modifications of his emotions--indicatedthat he felt thoroughly sick. He gazed at the open door of his vault andlooked as a man might appear after realizing that the presentation of awooden popgun had made him turn over his pocketbook to a robber. "Walkedin? _Walked_ in?" he reiterated. The stress of the occasion seemed to have made the Prophet lessincoherent than was his wont; or perhaps he found no texts to fit thissituation. "I did not dive through your solid steel, Pharaoh! I used myeyes, after I had used my ears. Here!" His fists had been doubled. Heunclasped his hands and held them forward. In each palm was one of themetal disks. "Your bank-vault door was trigged with these--wedged in thecrack of the outer flange. I saw, I pulled hard on the big handle--andhere I am!" "But the bolts--" Starr stopped, trying to remember about the bolts. "The bolts were not shot. You were trying to push back what had alreadybeen pushed. " Starr began to scratch the back of his head, in the process tipping hishat low over his eyes. He turned those eyes on Vaniman. "Speaking ofpushing--of being able to push--" But the examiner did not allow himselfto go any farther at that time. "Vaniman, " he blurted, after a fewmoments of meditation, "I want you to volunteer to do something--of yourown free will, understand!" Vaniman, pallid again, was fully aware of the effect of this newrevelation on his position, already more than questionable. "I'll followany suggestion, of my own free will, sir. " "We'd better arrange to have a private talk to-night before we go tosleep, and another talk when we wake up. I suggest that you come to thetavern and lodge with me. " "It's a good plan, Mr. Starr, " the cashier returned, bravely. But in the distressed glance which Frank and Vona exchanged they bothconfessed that they knew he was politely and unofficially under arrest. "I'll keep Dorsey on the premises and will stay here, myself, " profferedthe president. "You can be sure that things will take no harm during thenight, Mr. Starr. " "So far as your bank goes, there doesn't seem to be much left to harm, Britt, " snapped back the examiner. He fished one of the disks from hisvest pocket and surveyed it grimly. "As to these assets, whatever theymay be, I don't think you need to fear--except that small boys may wantto steal 'em to use for sinkers or to scale on the water next summer. What are they, anyway? Does anybody know?" Britt had plucked one of the disks from his pocket and was inspectingit. He hastened to say that he had never seen anything of the sort tillthat evening. Prophet Elias seemed to be taking no further interest in affairs. Hewent to the door leading into the corridor. It was locked. "I'd like toget out, " he suggested. "Now that the other way through the vaults had become the main-traveledavenue of the village, why don't you go out as you came in?" was Starr'ssardonic query. The Prophet was not ruffled. "I would gladly do so, but the door of thegrille is locked. " "Ah, that accounts for the fact that everybody else in Egypt isn't inthis office on your heels! Britt, let him out!" The president obeyed, unlocking the door, and the Prophet joined thecrowd in the corridor. Starr went to the door and addressed the folks. "Allow me to call your attention, such of you as are handy to this door, to Cashier Vaniman. " He jerked a gesture over his shoulder. "You can seethat he is all right. We are giving out no information to-night. I orderyou, one and all, to leave this building at once. I mean business!" He waited till the movement of the populace began, gave Dorsey somesharp commands, and banged the door. But when he turned to face thosein the office he reached behind himself and opened the door again; thesight of the girl had prompted him. "I suggest that this is a good timefor you to be going along, Miss Harnden. You'll have plenty of company. " But she showed no inclination to go. She was exhibiting something like adesperate resolve. "Will you please shut the door, Mr. Starr?" He obeyed. "It's in regard to those disks! They are coat weights!" Starr fished out his souvenir once more and inspected it; his faceshowed that he had not been illuminated especially. "Women understand such things better than men, of course, " she went on. "Dressmakers stitch those weights into the lower edges of women's suitcoats to make the fabric drape properly and hang without wrinkling. " "You're a woman and you probably know what you're talking about onthat line, " admitted the examiner. "But because you're a woman I don'tsuppose you can tell me how coat weights happen to be the maincash assets of this bank!" Mr. Starr's manner expressed fully hiscontemptuous convictions on that point. "I certainly cannot say how those weights happen to be in the bank, sir. But I feel that this is the time for everybody in our town to give inevery bit of information that will help to clear up this terrible thing. I'm taking that attitude for myself, Mr. Starr, and I hope that allothers are going to be as frank. " She gave President Britt a fearlessstare of challenge. "My father has recently had a great deal of newcourage about some of the inventions he hopes to put through. He hastold me that Mr. Britt is backing him financially. " "Your father is everlastingly shinning up a moonbeam, and you know it, "declared Britt. Starr shook his hand, pinching the disk between thumb and forefinger. "Young woman, I'm interested only in this, if you have any informationto give me in regard to it. " Vaniman was displaying an interest of his own that was but little shortof amazement. "The information I have is this, sir! My father said that Mr. Britt'shelp had enabled him to start in manufacturing a patent door whichrequires the use of many washers with small holes, and he was sayingat home that he'd be obliged to have them turned out by a blacksmith. I happened to be making over something for mother and I had some coatweights on my table. I showed them to my father and he said they werejust the thing. He found out where they were made and he ordered aquantity--they came in little kegs and he stored them in the stable. That's all, Mr. Starr!" "All? Go ahead and tell me--" "I have told you all I know, sir! That's the stand I'm taking, whatevermay come up. If you expect me to tell you that these are the disks myfather stored in the stable, I shall do no such thing. The kegs and thedisks may be there right now, for all I know. " She faced the examinerwith an intrepidity which made that gentleman blink. It was plain enoughthat he wanted to say something--but he did not venture to say it. "And now I'll go! I think my father must be out there waiting for me. If you care to stay here long enough, I'll have him hurry back from ourhome and report whether the kegs are still in the stable. " "We'll wait, Miss Harnden!" Starr opened the door. After she had gone, Britt closed the door of his vault and shot thebolts. The three men kept off the dangerous topic except as they conferred onthe pressing business in hand. They helped Dorsey hurry the lingerersfrom the building. Then they went into the bank, stored the books in thevault, and locked it. Starr, especially intent on collecting all items of evidence, foundin the vault, when he entered, a cloth that gave off the odor ofchloroform. On one corner of the cloth was a loop by which it could besuspended from a hook. "Is this cloth anything that has been about the premises?" asked theofficial. "It's Vona's dustcloth, " stated Britt. He had watched the girl tooclosely o' mornings not to know that cloth! That information seemed to prick Starr's memory on another point. Fromhis trousers pocket he dug the tape which he had cut from Vaniman'swrists. He glanced about the littered floor. There was the remnant of aroll of tape on the floor. Mr. Starr wrapped the fragment of tape in asheet of paper along with the roll. Then Mr. Harnden arrived. The outer door had been left open for him. Hehad run so fast that his breath came in whistles with the effect ofa penny squawker. As the movie scenarios put it, he "got over, " withgestures and breathless mouthings rather than stated in so many words, that the kegs of disks were gone--all of them. Replying with asthmatic difficulty to questions put to him by Starr, Mr. Harnden stated that he could not say with any certainty when the kegshad been taken, nor could he guess who had taken them. He kept no horseor cow and had not been into the stable since he put the kegs there. Thestable was not locked. He had always had full faith in the honesty ofhis fellow-man, said the optimist. Mr. Starr allowed that he had always tried to feel that way, too, butstated that he had been having his feelings pretty severely wrenchedsince he had arrived in the town of Egypt. Then he and Vaniman left the bank to go to the tavern. Outside the door, a statue of patience, Squire Hexter was waiting. "I didn't use my pull as a director to get underfoot in there, BrotherStarr. No, just as soon as I heard that the boy, here, was all right Istepped out and coaxed out all the others I could prevail on. What hasbeen done about starting the general hue and cry about those robbers?" Starr stammered when he said that he supposed that the local constablehad notified the sheriff. "I attended to that, myself! Dorsey could think of only one thing ata time. But I reckoned you had taken some steps to make the call moreofficial. The state police ought to be on the job. " "I'll attend to it. " But Mr. Starr did not display particularly urgentzeal. "Well, son, we'll toddle home! What say?" Vaniman did not say. He was choking. Reaction and grief and anxiety wereunnerving him. Starr did the saying. "The cashier and I have a lot ofthings to go over, Squire, and he plans to spend the night with me atthe tavern. " "I see!" returned the notary, amiably, showing no surprise. He called acheery "Good night!" when he left them at the tavern door. Landlord Files gave them a room with two beds. Without making any bonesof the thing, Examiner Starr pushed his bed across the door and thenturned in and snored with the abandon of one who had relieved himself ofthe responsibility of keeping vigil. CHAPTER XVI LOOKED AT SQUARELY The bank examiner and the cashier were down early to breakfast. Starr had slept well and was vigorously alert. Vaniman was haggard andvisibly worried. Both of them were reticent. Vaniman felt that he had nothing to say, as matters stood. Starr was thinking, rather than talking. He snapped up Files when thelandlord meekly inquired whether there were any clews. Files retreatedin a panic. "Vaniman, " said the examiner, when they pulled on their coats under thealligator's gaping espionage, "this is going to be my busy day and Ihope you feel like pitching into this thing with me, helping to yourutmost. " "You can depend on me, Mr. Starr. " "I don't intend to bother you with any questions at present except toask about the routine business of the bank. So you can have your mindfree on that point. " They went to the bank and relieved Britt. "Go get your breakfast and come back here as soon as you can, " Starrcommanded, plunging into matters with the air of the sole captain of thecraft. "And call a meeting of the directors. " The examiner had brought a brief-case along with him from the tavern. He pulled out a card. Britt winced when he saw what was printed on thecard. THIS BANK CLOSED pending examination of resources and liabilities and auditing of accounts. Per order STATE BANK EXAMINERS. Mr. Starr ordered Britt to tack that card on the outer door. "Isn't there any other way but this?" asked the president. "There's nothing else to be done--certainly not! I'm afraid theinstitution is in a bad way, Britt. You say you have been callingregular loans in order to build up a cash reserve--and your cash isn'tin sight. I reckon it means that the stockholders will be assessed thefull hundred per cent of liability. " He bolted the bank door behind the president. "Now, Vaniman, did you find out anything sensible about those books, asfar as you got last evening?" "Only that the accounts seem to have been willfully tangled up. " "Then we'll let that part of the thing hang. Get out letters todepositors, calling in all pass books. " After Vaniman had set himself down to that task, Starr went about hisbusiness briskly. He prepared telegrams and sent his charioteer toput them on the wire at Levant. Those messages were intended to set inoperation the state police, a firm of licensed auditors, the securitycompany which had bonded the bank's officials, the insurance corporationwhich guaranteed the Egypt Trust Company against loss by burglars. ThenStarr proceeded with the usual routine of examination as conducted whenbanks are going concerns. For the next few days Egypt was on the map. Ike Jones was obliged to put extra pungs on to his stage line for theaccommodation of visitors who included accountants, newspaper reporters, insurance men, and security representatives. Finally, so far as Starr's concern was involved, the affairs of theEgypt Trust Company were shaken down into something like coherence. Theapparent errors in the books, when they had been checked by pass booksand notes and securities, were resolved into a mere wanton effort to mixthings up. Mr. Starr took occasion to reassure Miss Harnden in regard to thosebooks; during the investigation the girl had been working with Vanimanin the usual double-hitch arrangement which had prevailed before the dayof the disaster. The two plodded steadily, faithfully, silently, underthe orders of the examiner. "Now that I've seen you at work, Miss Harnden, I eliminate carelessnessand stupidity as the reasons for the books being as they are. That's theway I'm going at this thing--by the process of elimination. I'm going tosay more! I'm eliminating you as being consciously responsible for anyof the wrongdoing in this bank. That's about as far as I've got in thematter of elimination. " He thumped his fist on a ledger. "It looks to meas if somebody had started to put something over by mixing these figuresand had been tripped before finishing the job. " Then Mr. Starr, as if to show his appreciation of a worthy young womanwhom he had treated in rather cavalier fashion at their first meeting, made her clerk to the receiver; the receiver was Almon Waite, an amiableold professor of mathematics, retired, who had come back to Egypt topass his last days with his son. Examiner Starr, having taken it uponhimself to put the Egypt Trust case through, had found in ProfessorWaite a handy sort of a soft rubber stamp. Every afternoon, day by day, Starr had remarked casually to Vaniman, "Seeing that we have so many things to talk over, you'd better lodgewith me at the hotel to-night!" And daily Vaniman agreed withouta flicker of an eyelid. In view of the fact that both of them keptsedulously off the bank business after hours, there was a perfectunderstanding between the examiner and the cashier as to what thisespionage meant. And Vaniman knew perfectly well just why a chap namedBixby was in town! Having a pretty good knowledge of Starr's general opinions andprejudices, the cashier had squared himself to meet things as they camealong. Once or twice Starr gave the young man an opportunity to comeacross with explanations or defense. Vaniman kept silent. The cashier explained his sentiments to Vona. "It's mighty littleammunition I've got, dear! All I can do now is to keep it dry, and waittill I can see the whites of the enemy's eyes. " He refrained from any comment on the identity of the enemy. He did notneed to name names to Vona. The attitude of Tasper Britt, who kept byhimself in his own office; who offered not one word of suggestion orexplanation or consolation; who surveyed Vaniman, when the two met atthe tavern, with the reproachful stare of the benefactor who had beenbetrayed--Britt's attitude was sufficiently significant. Vaniman waswaiting to see what Britt would do in the crisis that was approaching. "At any rate, I must keep silent until I'm directly accused, Vona. Starris regularly talking with Britt. If I begin now to defend myself bytelling about Britt's operations, I'll merely be handing weapons to theenemy. They can't surprise me by any charge they may bring! I have gotmyself stiffened up to that point. You must make up your mind that it'scoming. Pile up courage beforehand!" It was a valiant little speech. But he was obliged to strive heroicallyto make his countenance fit his words of courage. In facing thesituation squarely he had been trying to make an estimate of the stateof mind in Egypt. He bitterly decided that the folks were lining upagainst the outlander. As hateful as Britt had made himself, he wasEgyptian, born and bred. Vaniman knew what the wreck of the little banksignified in that town, which was already staggering under its debtburden. How that bank had been wrecked was not clear to Vaniman, evenwhen he gave the thing profound consideration. He did not dare todeclare to himself all that he suspected of the president. Nor did hedare to believe that Britt would dump the whole burden on the cashier. However, if Britt undertook such a play of perfidy, the outlander knewthat the native would have the advantage in the exchange of accusation. Vaniman perceived the existing state of affairs in the demeanor of themen whom he met on the street, going to and from the tavern. He heardsome of their remarks. He strove to keep a calm face while his soulburned! Then, at last, Examiner Starr acted. He employed peculiar methods to fita peculiar case. One afternoon Starr sat and stared for some time at Vaniman. They werealone in the bank. Receiver Waite and Vona had gone away. "Would you relish a little show?" inquired the examiner. Vaniman had nerved himself against all kinds of surprise, he thought, but he was not prepared for this proffer of entertainment. He franklydeclared that he did not understand. "Seeing that you are doubtful, we'll have the show, anyway, and youcan tell me later whether or not you relish it. " He opened the door andcalled. Bixby came in. It was evident that Bixby had been waiting. "All ready!" said Starr. "All right!" said Bixby. "I'll say that Bixby, here, is an operator from a detective agency, incase you don't know it, " explained the examiner. "I do know it, sir!" Bixby pulled off his overcoat. Under it he wore a mohair office coat. Heyanked off that garment, ripped the sleeves, tore the back breadth, andthrew the coat under a stool. Then he secured a dustcloth from a hook, produced a small vial of chloroform, and poured some of the liquid onthe cloth. He poured more of the chloroform on his hair and his vest. Then he laid down the cloth and got a roll of tape out of a drawer. Hecut off a length and made a noose, slipped it over his wrists, bent downand laid the end of the tape on the floor, stood on it, and pulled tautthe noose until the flesh was ridged. He stooped again and picked uptwo metal disks which Starr tossed on the floor; the detective did thiseasily, although his writs were noosed. "Not the exact program, perhaps, but near enough, " Starr commented. With equal ease Bixby laid the disks carefully on the flange of the sillof the vault. Then he took the cloth from the desk, went to the vault, stooped and thumped his head up against the projecting lever. He wentinto the vault and carefully pulled the door shut after him, both handson the main bolt. Starr was silent for some moments, exchanging looks with the cashier. "Any comments?" inquired the manager of the show. "None, sir. " "I'll simply say that the chloroform cloth can be put to the nose asoccasion calls for. Bixby isn't doing that. I told Bixby that for thepurposes of demonstration he might count one hundred slow and thenfigure that he had used up the oxygen in the vault, and then, if nobodycame to open the door, he could--well, he isn't in there to commitsuicide, but only to create an impression. I ask again--any comments?" Vaniman shook his head. Then the door swung open. Bixby was on his back, his heels in the air. He had pushed the door with his feet, his shoulders against the innerdoor. He rose and came out. Starr cut the tape with the office shears. "That's all!" said the manager. Bixby, not troubling about the torn office jacket, put on his overcoatand departed. Starr took a lot of time in lighting a cigar and getting a good clinchon the weed with his teeth. He spoke between those teeth. "It's yourmove, Vaniman. " "I haven't agreed to sit in at that kind of a game, " stated the youngman, firmly. "But you'll have to admit that I'm playing mighty fair, " insisted theexaminer. "When we talked in Britt's office, you and I agreed that itwasn't likely that a chap would run risks or commit suicide by shuttinghimself up in a bank vault with a time lock on. That's about the onlypoint we did agree on. I'm showing you that I don't agree with you now, even on that point. That being the case, you've got to--show _me_. "Starr emphasized the last two words by stabbing at his breast with thecigar. "The idea is, Mr. Starr, you believe that I framed a fake robbery, orsomething that looked like a robbery, in order to cover myself. " Frankstood up and spoke hotly. Mr. Starr jumped up and was just as heated in his retort. "Yes!" "But the whole thing--the muddling of the bank's books--the disks--a manshoving himself into the vault--I'd have to be a lunatic to perform inthat fashion!" "They say there's nothing new under the sun! There is, just the same!Some crook is thinking up a new scheme every day!" "By the gods, you shall not call me a crook!" "You, yourself, are drawing that inference. But I don't propose to dealin inferences--" "Starting in the first day you struck this town, hounding me on accountof matters I had no knowledge of, Mr. Starr, was drawing a damnableinference. " "It has been backed up by some mighty good evidence!" "What is your evidence?" The examiner blew a cloud of smoke, then he fanned the screen away andsquinted at Vaniman. "If you ever hear of me giving away the state'scase in any matter where I'm concerned you'll next hear of me committingsuicide by locking myself into a bank vault. Calm down, Mr. Cashier!" Starr walked close to Vaniman and tapped a stubby forefinger againstthe young man's heaving breast. "I'm going to give you a chance, youngfellow! I staged that little play a few moments ago so that you'd seewhat a fool house of cards you're living in! I hope you noted carefullythat we did not need to go off the premises for any of our props. I, myself, had noted in your case that everything that was used came fromthe premises. Real robbers usually bring their own stuff. Even thatchloroform--" "I know nothing about the chloroform, sir. " "Well, the vial was here that night, anyway! It's a small thing to wastetime on! I don't profess to be at the bottom of the affair, Vaniman. I'll admit that it looks as if there's a lot behind this thing--plentythat is interesting. I've got my full share of human curiosity. I'd liketo be let in on this thing, first hand. Now come across clean! The wholestory! Tell me where the coin is! It's certainly a queer case, and theremust be some twist in it where I can do you a good turn. I've giving youyour chance, I say!" "I have no more idea where that coin is than you have, Mr. Starr. Inever touched it. I have already told the whole truth, so far as I knowfacts. " "Now listen, Vaniman! This town is already _down_! If that gold isn'trecovered this bank failure will put the town _out_! The folks are ugly. They're talking. Britt says they believe you have hidden the money!" "He does say it!" Vaniman fairly barked the words. "No doubt he has beentelling 'em so!" Starr proceeded remorselessly. "I have heard all the gossip about thetrouble between you and Britt. But that gossip doesn't belong in thisthing right now. Vaniman, you know what a country town is when it turnsagainst an outsider! If you go before a jury on this case--and thatmoney isn't in sight--you don't stand the show of a wooden latch on theback door of hell's kitchen! They'll all come to court with what theycan grub up in the way of brickbats--facts, if they can get 'em, lies, anyway! Come, come, now! Dig up the coin!" Starr's bland persistency in taking for granted the fact that Vanimanwas hiding the money snapped the overstrained leash of the cashier'sself-restraint. In default of a general audience of the hateful Egyptianvilifiers, he used Starr as the object of his frenzied vituperation. Mr. Starr listened without reply. As soon as it was apparent to the bank examiner that the cashier didnot intend to take advantage of the chance that had been offered, Starrmarched to the door, opened it, and called. The corridor, it seemed, wasserving as repository for various properties required in the dramawhich Mr. Starr had staged that day. The man who entered wore a goldbadge--and a gold badge marks the high sheriff of a county. Starr handeda paper to the officer. "Serve it, " he commanded, curtly. The sheriff walked to Vaniman and tapped him on the shoulder. "You'reunder arrest. " "Charged with what?" "I'm making it fairly easy for you, " explained, Starr, dryly, appearingto be better acquainted with the nature of the warrant than thesheriff was. "Burglary, with or without accomplices, might have beencharged--seeing that the coin has been removed--in the nighttime, ofcourse! But we're simply making the charge embezzlement!" CHAPTER XVII ON THE FACE OF IT Squire Hexter arranged for Vaniman's bail, volunteering for thatservice, frankly admitting that he "had seen it coming all along"! Butthe Squire was not as ready to serve as Frank's counsel and withstoodthat young man's urging for some time. The Squire's solicitude in behalfof the accused was the reason for this reluctance. "You ought to havethe smartest city lawyer you can hire. I'm only an old country codger, son!" "Squire Hexter, I propose to let the other side have a monopoly of thetricks. I'm depending on my innocence, and I want your honesty back ofit. " In the hope that the folks of Egypt would recognize innocence when theysaw it, Vaniman daily walked the streets of the village. The prideof innocence was soon wounded; he learned that his action in "showinghimself under the folks's noses" was considered as bravado. The light ofday showed him so many sour looks that he stayed in the house with Xoaor in the Squire's office until night. Then he discovered that when hewalked abroad under cover of the darkness he was persistently trailed;it was evident that the belief that he had hidden the coin of the EgyptTrust Company was sticking firmly in the noodles of the public. The bank, of course, was now forbidden ground for him. The affairs ofthat unhappy institution were being wound up. Considering the fact thatthe stockholders had been assessed dollar for dollar of their holdings, and that, even with this assessment added to the assets, the depositorswould get back only a fraction of their money, Vaniman could scarcelymarvel at the hard looks and the muttered words he met up with on thestreet. Furthermore, the insurance company took the stand that the bank hadnot been burglarized. On the other hand, the security company behindVaniman's bond refused to settle, claiming that some kind of a thefthad been committed by outsiders. Only after expensive litigation couldReceiver Waite hope to add insurance and bond money to the assets. Theprospects of getting anything were clouded by the revelations concerningPresident Britt's private entrance to the bank vault. But Britt was notaccused of anything except of presuming on too many liberties in runninga one-man bank. Under some circumstances Britt would have been calledto an accounting, without question. But all the venom of suspicion waswholly engaged with Frank Vaniman, the son of an embezzler. Squire Hexter, armed with authority and information given him by theyoung man, had repeatedly waited on Tasper Britt and had asked whatattitude the president proposed to take at the trial. Britt had saidthat he should tell the truth, and that was all any witness could beexpected to do or to promise, furthermore, so he told the Squire, he hadbeen enjoined by his counsel to make no talk to anybody. Vaniman was not sure of his self-restraint during that period ofwaiting. There were days when he felt like slapping the faces thatglowered when he looked at them. He avoided any meeting with Britt. Thatwas easy, because Britt swung with pendulum regularity between house andtavern, tavern and office. There were days when Vaniman was so thoroughly disheartened that hepleaded with Vona to make a show of breaking off their friendship. Shehad insisted on displaying herself as his champion; obeying her, hewalked in her company to and from the bank with more or less regularity. His spirit of chivalry made the snubs harder to endure when she wasobliged to share them in his company. But Vona staunchly refused to be a party to such deception. She borrowedsome figures of speech suggested by the work she was doing in the bankand declared that her loyalty was not insolvent and that she would notmake any composition with her conscience. In her zeal to be of service, one day she even volunteered to interviewTasper Britt on the subject of what had happened to the Egypt TrustCompany. On that fresh April morning they had walked up the slope ofBurkett Hill, where the sward was showing its first green. He had cometo her house earlier than usual so that she might have time for thelittle excursion. They hunted for mayflowers and found enough to make abit of a bouquet for her desk in the office. "One just has to feel hopeful in the spring, Frank, " she insisted, brushing the blossoms gently against his cheek. From the slope theycould look down into the length of Egypt's main street. "Why, theregoes Tasper Britt toward his office and he actually waved his hand toa man--honest! The spring does soften folks. If he does know somethingabout the inside of the dreadful puzzle, as you and I have talked somany times, I do believe I can coax him to tell me. " "I don't want you to coax him, dear. Squire Hexter has put the thing upto Britt, man to man, and I think it better to let it stand that way. " "But if we could get only a little hint to work from!" "I'm afraid you'll find him as stingy with hints as he is witheverything else. He does know--something! I would not put him abovearranging that frame-up that put me where I was found that night, " hedeclared, with bitterness. "No, Frank, I tell you again that I don't believe he knew it was goingto happen. When I stood there outside the curtain that night I waslooking straight at him, and at nobody else. I don't remember anotherface. Tasper Britt is not actor enough to make up the expression that Isaw. It was simple, absolute, flabbergasted fright!" They started down the slope and walked in silence. "He's considerable of a coward, " Vaniman admitted, after his pondering. "I'm depending on that fact, more or less. I don't believe he'll dare tostand up as a witness in court and perjure himself. Squire Hexter has aline of questions that he and I have prepared very carefully. Britt willhave to testify that I did not have sole opportunity. In consideringcrimes, it's proving sole opportunity that sends folks to prison!" She turned away her face and set her teeth upon her lower lip, controlling her agitation. "I'm trying to face the thing just as bravely as I can, Vona. On theface of it I'm in bad! When I remember how Britt maneuvered with me, Ifeel like running to him and twisting his head off his neck. " When they arrived in front of Britt Block, Vaniman scowled at the stoneeffigy in its niche. Then, when his eyes came down from that complacentcountenance, they beheld the face of Tasper Britt framed in his officewindow. The Britt in the bank was distinctly in an ugly mood. And therewas a challenge in his demeanor, a sneer in the twist of his features. "Vona, I'm going in there, " Vaniman declared. "There's got to be ashowdown, but it's no job for you!" She offered neither protest nor advice. At that moment the young man wasmanifestly in a state of mind which sudden resolution had inflamed withsomething like desperation. When he strode in through the front doorBritt disappeared from the window. Vona, following her lover, put her hand on his arm when he arrived infront of the office door. "Don't you need me with you in there?" Shecould not hide her apprehensiveness. "I'm going to hold myself in, dear! Don't be worried. But it's best forme to see him alone. " He waited until she had gone into the bank office. He did not bother to knock on Britt's door. When he twisted the handlehe found that the door was locked. He called, but Britt did not reply. He put his mouth close to the door. "Mr. Britt, I have some business totalk over with you. Please let me in!" He waited. The man inside did not move or speak. "I'm coming in there, Britt, even if I have to kick this door down. " But the threat did not produce any results. Vaniman stepped back anddrove his foot against the panel, but not with enough force to break thelock. His kick was in the way of admonition. After a few moments Brittopened the door; he had an iron poker in his hand. Vaniman marched in. "You don't need any weapon, sir. " "I think I do, judging from the way you came rushing into this building. Vaniman, I protest. I have said my say to your attorney. I have nothingmore to add. " "I'm not here to try the case, Mr. Britt. I'll confess that I did notintend to waste my breath in talking with you. But I could not resistthe feeling that came over me a few moments ago. " He was standing justinside the door. He closed it. "You informed Squire Hexter that youintend to tell the truth at the trial. That's all right! I hope so. Ihave no criticism to offer on that point. But there's a matter of man'sbusiness between us two, and it belongs here rather than in a courtroom. Do you intend to tell the truth about how you framed me?" "I don't understand what you mean, " returned Britt, stiffly. "I'll put it so that you can't help understanding, sir. You rigged aplan to have me sleep in the bank nights. " "That was your own suggestion. You asked to be allowed to sleep here. " "You intend to say that in your testimony, do you?" Britt took a firm hold on the poker. "I most certainly do. " "You cooked up an excuse to send me off on a wild-goose chase in thenight. " "I know nothing about your going anywhere in the night--except thatFiles's hostler is saying that you hired a hitch for some purpose. " Vaniman knew that appeal and protest would be futile--realizing the fullextent of Britt's effrontery. However, in his amazement he began to railat the president. Britt broke in on the anathema. "I was not nigh the bank that night. I was asleep in my own house. You'd better not try any such ridiculousstory in court--it will spoil any defense Hexter may manage to put upfor you. Vaniman, it's plain enough why you hired that hitch! Why don'tyou tell where you hauled that money?" "I'm not going to do to you what I ought to do, Britt. I'm into the holedeep enough as it is! But let me ask you if any jury is going to believethat I was lunatic enough to hire a livery hitch, if I was hauling awayloot?" "It's my idea, Vaniman, that you were trying to work a hold-up game onthe bank, knowing that you were done here, " stated Britt, coolly. "Butsomething went wrong before you had a chance to offer a compromise. Naturally, you thought we'd do 'most anything to keep our little bankfrom failing. " The young man beat his fist upon his breast. "Have you the damnationcheek, Britt, to use me, the victim, to rehearse your lies on?" "I'm giving you a little glimpse of the evidence. If the hint is of anyuse to you, you're welcome. " "Britt, have you turned into a demon?" Vaniman demanded. He stared atthe usurer with honest incredulity. "I've had enough setbacks, in recent days, to craze 'most any man, I'lladmit. But I'm keeping along in my usual course, doing the right thingas I see it. " "Britt, I have never done you an injury. Are you going to ruin mebecause a good girl loves me?" "I have too much respect for that young lady to allow her name to bedragged into a mess of this sort, " stated the amazing Britt. "And Ithink that she'll wake up after she has come to a realizing sense ofwhat a narrow escape she has had. " Vaniman stood there, his hands closing and unclosing, his palms itchingto feel the contact of Britt's cheeks. There was venom in Britt's eyes. This outrageous baiting was satisfying the older man's rancor--the uglygrudge that clawed and tore his soul when he sat alone in his chamberand gazed on the girl's pictured beauty. Every night, after he puffedout his light, he muttered the same speech--it had become the talismanof his ponderings. "Whilst I'm staying alone here he'll be alone in acell in state prison. " Vaniman understood. He turned on his heel and walked out of Britt's office. In the street the young man met Prophet Elias, who was adventuringabroad under his big umbrella. Vaniman was in a mood to poke ruthlessfacts against his aches. "Prophet, you ought to know whether any of thefolks in this town believe that I'm innocent. Are there any?" Elias, ever since he had flung to the cashier the sage advice aboutkeeping his eye peeled, had used texts rarely in his infrequent talkswith Vaniman. "Oh yes, there are a few, " he said, with matter-of-fact indifference. "But they didn't lose money by the bank failure. " "What do you think about me?" The Prophet cocked his eyebrow. "'Can a man take fire into his bosom, and his clothing not be burned?' Britt, the bank, the girl! Three hottorches, young sir! Very hot torches!" He walked on. Then he turned andcame back and patted Vaniman's arm. "You didn't keep your eye peeled!The young are thoughtless. But four good old eyes will be serving youwhile you're--_away_! Mine and Brother Usial's. " "Thank you!" said the young man, and he went on his way. He wasreflecting on that text the Prophet had enunciated. Might it not apply as well to Tasper Britt? CHAPTER XVIII A PERSISTENT BELIEF Vaniman was indicted; he was tried; he was convicted; he was sentencedto serve seven years in the state prison. He refused to allow SquireHexter to appeal the case. He had no taste for further struggleagainst the circumstantial evidence that was reinforced by perjury. His consciousness of protesting innocence was subjugated by the morosedetermination to accept the unjust punishment. The general opinion was that he was a very refractory young man becausehe would not disclose the hiding place of the gold. Even the warden of the prison had some remarks to make on that subject. The chaplain urged Vaniman to clear his conscience and do what he couldto aid the distressed inhabitants of a bankrupt town. This conspiracy ofpersistent belief in his guilt put a raw edge on his mental suffering. His only source of solace was the weekly letter from Vona. Her fortitudeseemed to be unaffected; her loyalty heartened him. And after a timehope intervened and comforted him; although Vaniman had only a fewfriends on the job for him in Egypt, he reflected that Tasper Britthad plenty of enemies who would operate constantly and for the indirectbenefit of Britt's especial victim. The young man felt that accidentmight disclose the truth at any time. But every little while he wentthrough a period of acute torture; he had a wild desire to break out ofhis prison, to be on the ground in Egypt, to go at the job of unmaskingBritt as only a man vitally interested in the task could go at it! Sometimes his frenzy reached such a height that it resembled theaffliction that pathologists call claustrophobia. He stamped to and froin his cell, after the bolts had been driven for the night; he lamentedand he cursed, muffling his tones. And a man named Bartley Wagg, havingtaken it upon himself to keep close tabs on Vaniman's state of mind, noted the prisoner's rebellious restlessness with deepening interest andcoupled a lot of steady pondering with his furtive espionage. Wagg was a prison guard. After Vaniman was committed, Wagg complained of rheumatism and asked thewarden to transfer him from the wall where he had been doing sentry-gowith a rifle and give him an inside job as night warder. And the wardenhumored Wagg, who was a trusted veteran. Wagg made regular trips along the cell tiers during the night. He paddedas noiselessly as a cat, for he had soles of felt on his shoes. Manytimes, keeping vigil when his emotions would not allow him to sleep, Vaniman saw Wagg halt and peer through the bars of the cell. Thecorridor light showed his face. But Wagg did not accost the prisoner. The guard acted like a man who, whatever might be his particularinterest in Vaniman, proposed to take plenty of time in gettingacquainted. Once, after midnight, Wagg found the prisoner pacing; Vaniman dared torelieve his feelings by groans, for the chorus of snores served as asound-screen. "Sick?" inquired the guard, whispering. "No. " "If you ever are, don't be afraid to call on me when I pass. I've got agood heart. " "Thank you!" "I've really got too good a heart to be tied up to a prison job, "volunteered Wagg. "I hate to see sorrow. " "Sorrow is about all you have a chance to see in this place. " "Yes, " admitted the guard, sliding away. The warden had given Vaniman a bookkeeper's job. But the prison officewas a gloomy place and the windows were hatefully barred Through thebars he could see convict toilers wheeling barrows of dirt. They werefilling up a lime-quarry pit within the walls. In the old days convictshad quarried lime rocks. But in the newer days of shops the quarry wasabandoned and had been gradually filled with stagnant water. When theprison commissioners decided that the pool was a menace to health, acrew was set at work filling the pit. Vaniman envied the men who couldwork in the sunshine. He was everlastingly behind bars; the office wasnot much better than his cell. The bars shut him away from opportunityto make a man's fight for himself. Every time he looked at a window hewas reminded of his helplessness. It seemed to him that if he could getout into the sunshine and toil till his muscles ached he would be ableto endure better the night of confinement in the cell. He blurted out that much of confession to Wagg when the guard discoveredhim pacing in the narrow space a few nights later. "I sympathize!" whispered Wagg. "I know all about your case!" Then Waggpassed on. The next night he halted long enough to say that, knowing all aboutthe case from what the newspapers printed, he realized just why Vanimanfound it so tough to be locked up. Then Wagg refrained from saying anything for several nights. Theprisoner was quite sure that the guard had something on his mind outsideof a mere notion of being polite; in the case of Wagg, so hardened aveteran, politeness to a prisoner would have been heresy. Wondering justwhat Wagg was driving at, Vaniman found the guard's leisurely methodstantalizing in the extreme. One night the prisoner ventured to take theinitiative; he stuck out his hand to signal the guard. Wagg, it was manifest, was not so much a master of facial control thathe could suppress all signs of satisfaction. He looked pleased--like aman who had employed tactics that were working according to plans andhopes. "Sick?" "Yes--heart and soul! Body, too! Isn't there any way of my getting a jobwheeling that dirt?" Wagg made his noiseless getaway. He departed suddenly, without a word. Until the next night Vaniman was left to wonder to what extent he hadoffended the official. But Wagg showed no signs of unfriendliness when he halted, aftermidnight, at the cell door. "Feel any better?" "No!" "I reckon I understand. Of course I understand! Most of 'em that's inhere haven't anything special to look forward to when they get out. Yourcase is different. Everything to look forward to! No wonder you walk thecell. " On he slid, silently. Vaniman had read the _Arabian Nights_ tales, as they were divided inthe literal translation. He reflected whimsically on the methods ofthe story-teller who, "having said her permitted say, " was wont to stopright in the middle of a sentence for the sake of piquing interest inwhat was to follow. The next night the prisoner's interest was heightened into realamazement. Wagg stuck his hand through the bars and waggled itinvitingly. "Take it!" he urged, sibilantly. For a dizzy instant Vaniman was moved by the expansive hope that hisplight had appealed to this man; he hastened to take what Wagg offered. It was a small cube of something. "Eat it!" said the guard. Holding it close to his face, to make an inspection in the dim light, the young man caught the scent of the cube. It was a piece of soap. Hemade sure by putting it to his nose. "Just a little at a time--what you can stomach, " Wagg urged. He passedon. But Vaniman did not obey; he was unable to comprehend what this sort offodder signified; he broke the cube into bits, thinking that a saw mightbe hidden. It was only soap--common soap. He put the bits away in theportfolio he was allow to have in his cell. Wagg was a bit testy the next night when Vaniman confessed that he hadnot eaten any of the soap. "You've got to show absolute confidence in me--do what I tell you todo, " insisted the guard. "I can't eat that soap. It will make me sick!" "You've said it! But eat that soap--a little at a time--and see what theprison doctor says. It isn't easy to fool prison doctors--but I've beenon this job long enough to know how. " That was Wagg's longest speech to date. His earnestness impressed theyoung man. He managed to eat a bit of the soap after the guard haddeparted. He ate more in the morning before his release from the cell. He put some crumbs of the soap in his pockets and choked down thehateful substance when he found an opportunity during the day. That night Wagg had a few more words to say on the subject. "One of thebiggest birds they ever caged at Atlanta fooled the doctors and got hispardon so that he could die outside the pen. Did he die? Bah-bah! Soap!Just soap!" "So you think the pardon plan can be worked in my case, do you?" "Pardon your eyes!" scoffed Wagg. "That isn't the idea at all!" He fed the soap to the prisoner for many nights, but he did not give anyinformation. However, Wagg had the air of a man who knew well what hewas about, and Vaniman was desperate enough to continue the horriblediet, having found that Mr. Wagg was a very touchy person when hispolicies were doubted or his good faith questioned. Then, one day the prison doctor, who had been observing Vaniman for sometime, took the bookkeeper into his office and examined him thoroughly;he gravely informed the warden that the young man had symptoms ofincipient kidney trouble and ought to be less closely confined. When Vaniman found himself out in the sunshine, intrusted with thesinecure of checking up barrow-loads of dirt which convicts wheeled pasthim where he sat in an armchair provided by the warden from his office, the prisoner perceived that the Wagg policies were effective in gettingresults. Having added respect for Mr. Wagg's ability in general, Vaniman was notsurprised to find the guard following the favored prisoner into the newfield of operations. The young man was quite sure that the guard had notopened up on his principal plan. One morning Wagg came with a stool and a rifle and located himself closebeside the armchair; he sat on the stool and rested the rifle acrosshis knees and smoked a corncob pipe placidly. And there was plenty ofopportunity for talk, though Wagg obtrusively kept his face turned fromVaniman's and talked through the corner of his mouth. "Now you see, I hope! In a prison you've got to step light and go theother way around to get to a thing. I'm favored here, and I'm supposedto be nursing rheumatism. " He leaned forward to knock out his pipedottle and found an opportunity to give Vaniman a wink. "I arranged tocome off the wall--knowing all about your case. I could ask to come outhere, having found that night work didn't help me! Sunshine is good. Butyou couldn't ask for sunshine. When a prisoner asks for a thing, they goon the plan of doing exactly opposite to what he seems to want. From nowon, having seen how I can operate, I expect you to do just what I tellyou to do. " Vaniman looked at the rifle. Wagg waved it, commanding a convict tohurry past. "Yes, sir! You've got to do just as I say!" insisted the guard when theconvict had gone out of earshot. "How can I help myself?" "Oh, I don't mean that I'm going to team you around with this rifle! Iwant you to co-operate. " "Don't you think I can co-operate better if you give me a line on whatall this means?" pleaded the prisoner. "Sure and slow is my policy. I'm not just certain that I have you sizedup right, as yet. I'm of a suspicious nature. But I'm finding thissunshine softening. " Mr. Wagg rambled on, squinting up at the sky. "Seven years is a long while to wait for a good time to come. Figuringthat your time will be paid for at the rate of about ten thousanddollars a year, while you're in here, helps to smooth the feelingssomewhat, of course. But now that you're in here you're countingdays instead of years--and every day seems a year when you're lookingforward. The newspapers said it was about seventy-five thousand dollarsin good, solid gold. " Wagg bored Vaniman with a side glance that was prolonged until a toilingconvict had passed to a safe distance. The young man was eyeingthe guard with a demeanor which indicated that the tractable spiritcommended by Mr. Wagg was no longer under good control. However, Vanimandid manage to control his tongue. After the silence had continued for some time, the guard slipped downfrom the stool and marched to and fro with his rifle in the hook of hisarm, affording a fine display of attention to duty. After he had returned to his stool, Wagg gave the ex-cashier plenty oftime to take up the topic. "Considering my position in this place, Ireckon I've said about enough, " suggested the guard. "I think you have said enough!" returned Vaniman, grimly. "What have you to say?" "I didn't take that money from the Egypt Trust Company. I don't knowwhere it is. I never knew where it went. And I'm getting infernally sickof having it everlastingly thrown up at me. " "I thought I had you sized up better--but I see I was wrong, " admittedWagg. "Of course you're wrong! You and the chaplain and the warden and thejury! I didn't take that money!" "I didn't mean I was wrong on that point, " proceeded Wagg, remorselessly. "But I had watched you bang around your cell and Iconcluded that you was ready to make about a fifty-fifty split ofthe swag with the chap who could get you out of here. If you're stillstuffy, you'll have to stay that way--and stay in here, too!" He took another promenade, pursuing his regular policy of starting thefire and letting the kettle come aboil on its own hook. "What good would it do me to escape from this prison--to be hounded andhunted from one end of the world to the other?" Vaniman demanded, whenWagg had returned to the stool. "I do want to get out. But I want to getout right! I have a job to do for myself when I'm out of here!" Mr. Waggnodded understandingly. "And that job is right in the same town where Ihave been living. " "Exactly!" agreed the guard. "And speaking of a job, you don't think forone moment, do you, that I'd be earning a fifty-fifty split by boostingyou over that wall or smuggling you out of the gate to shift foryourself? Small wonder that you got hot, thinking I meant it that way. My plan will put you out right! My plan is a prime plan that can beworked only once. Therefore, it's worth money. " "Damn it, I haven't the money!" Vaniman, exasperated by thispertinacity, was not able to control his feelings or his language. "It's too bad you are still at the point where you _think_ you haven'tgot it, " returned Mr. Wagg. "I'm a terrible good waiter. Reckon I haveshowed that kind of a disposition already. When you get to the otherand sensible point where you want to be out of here, and out right, with nobody chasing and hectoring you, you and I will do business on thefifty-fifty basis. It may seem high, " he pursued. "But all prices arehigh in these times. They're so blamed high that I'm in debt, simplytrying to give my family a decent living. The state won't raise mywages. The state practically says, 'You'll have to do the best you can!'The state owes me a living. So I'll grab on to the assets that the statehas hove into my reach, and will speculate as best I know now. " "You think I'm your asset, eh?" "You're not worth a cent to me or yourself until I operate. And whenyou're ready to have me operate--fifty-fifty--give me the high sign. Andsomething will be done what was never done before!" Then Wagg carried his stool to the lee of a shop wall, seekingshade--too far away for further talk. CHAPTER XIX AND PHARAOH'S HEART WAS HARDENED By the wiles of Wagg and a soap diet Frank Vaniman had been able tosecure his modest slice of God's sunlight. There was aplenty of that sunshine in Egypt. It flooded the barehills and the barren valleys; there were not trees enough to trig thesunlight's flood with effective barriers of shade. Tasper Britt walked out into it from the door of Files's tavern. He had just been talking to the landlord about the tavern diet. Hislanguage was vitriolic. Even Vaniman could not have used more bitterwords to express his detestation for soap as a comestible. Britt's heat in the matter, the manner in which he had plunged intothe diatribe all of a sudden, astonished Mr. Files tremendously. Brittseemed to be acting out a part, he was so violent. Usually, Britt didnot waste any of the heat in his cold nature unless he had a goodreason for the expenditure. There seemed to be something else than meredyspepsia concerned, so Files thought. He followed Mr. Britt and calledto him from the door. Britt had stopped to light his cigar. "I've had my say. I'm all done here. Let that end it, " declared thedeparting guest. There were listeners, the usual after-dinner loafers of the tavern'spurlieus. Mr. Britt did not seem to mind them. He even looked about, asif to make sure of their numbers. "All you needed to do was to complain in a genteel way, and I would havebeen just as genteel in rectifying, " pleaded Files. "The people of this town are still saying that I'm a hard man. If that'sso, I'm waking up to the reason for it--your grub has petrified me. My real friends have noticed it. " Here was more of Britt's unwontedgarrulity about his private concerns. "Some of those friends have takenpity on me. I have been invited to board with the Harnden family. " Mr. Britt did not look around to note the effect of that piece of news. He gazed complacently up into the sunshine. He made quite a figure--for Egypt--as he stood there. Mr. Britt had"togged out. " His toupee, when he first flashed it, had signified much. But the manner in which he had garbed himself for summer was little lessthan hardihood, considering the sort of a community in which helived. He was "a native. " The style of his attire declared that he wascompletely indifferent to any comments by his townsmen--and such a traitexposed in a New England village revealed more fully than his usurioushabits the real callousness of the Britt nature. There was not a man insight who did not have patches either fore or aft, or both! Mr. Brittwore a light, checked suit with a fitted waist, garishly yellow shoes, a puff tie of light blue, and a sailor straw with a sash band. He wasa peacock in a yard full of brown Leghorns. But nobody laughed at Mr. Britt. Nobody in Egypt felt like laughing at anything, any more. Theywere accepting Britt, in his gorgeous plumage, as merely another strangeitem in the list of the signs and wonders that marked the latter days inEgypt. More tawdry than ever appeared Prophet Elias's robe in that sunshine, though his umbrella did seem to comport better with the season. He stoodin front of Usial's home. For a long time he had been keeping his tongueoff the magnate of the town. For some weeks he had been away somewhere. To those who indulgently asked where he had been he replied tartly thathe had volunteered as a scapegoat for the woes and sins of Egypt, hadgone in search of a wilderness, and had come back because all otherwildernesses were only second-rate affairs compared with the town fromwhich he had started. The Prophet seemed to feel that the appearance of Mr. Britt requiredcomment. He raised his voice and made that comment: "'And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin; and yet I say untoyou that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one ofthese. '" The Prophet bestowed a momentary benefit on gloomy Egypt--the listenersdid manage to crease their countenances with grins; Britt surveyed thosegrins before he turned his attention to Elias. But all he did turn washis attention--silent, bodeful, malicious scrutiny. The onlookers wereconsiderably surprised by Britt's silence; they wondered what controlledhis tongue; but they were not in doubt on one point--every man of themknew that when Tasper Britt wore that expression it meant that hehad settled upon the method of his revenge in the case of one who hadoffended him. After a few moments Britt turned from his stare at the Prophet anddropped what was nigh to being a bombshell; it was more effectivebecause it had nothing to do with the matter in hand. "Listen, fellow townsmen! We all know that we ought to put our shouldersto the wheel and do something for poor Egypt. I propose to start off. "He pointed to the old Britt mansion. "I'm going to tear down my house. " The men of Egypt goggled at him. "Aye! And start off with it?" queried the Prophet. "Good riddance!" But Mr. Britt was not troubling himself about the mouthings of Elias. "I shall put a crew on it to-morrow. A city contractor will arrive herethis afternoon with equipment and men. But he can also use all the localmen who want to work. All who will pitch in can hire with him at theregular scale of wages. As soon as the site is cleared I shall startwork on a new house. The plans are drawn. I have them here. " He snapped the rubber bands off a roll which he carried under his arm. He exhibited a watercolor facade elevation, stretching his arms wide andholding the paper in front of his face. The men came crowding around. They saw the drawing of a pretentious structure with towers andporticoes. Britt, holding the architect's broad sheet so that hisfeatures were hidden, explained the details of his project in regard torooms and grounds. There was a hateful expression on the hidden face;it was the face of a man who hoped he was stirring jealous envy in thosewhom he wished to punish. "It will be a mansion to the queen's taste, when you get it done, "observed one man; he took advantage of the fact that Britt could not seehim and winked at a neighbor. But if the man hoped to get a rise out ofthe builder in regard to a possible queen, he was disappointed. Another citizen was more venturesome: "I'm taking it for granted thatyou don't intend to keep old-bach hall in a house like that, Tasper!" Britt took down the shield. He displayed a countenance of blandsatisfaction. "I don't think I'll be allowed to do it, " he retorted, answering jest with jest. "You know what women are when they seea good-looking house needing a mistress. " He rolled the paper upcarefully. "And now, talking of something sensible, I hope you're goingto turn out in good numbers when that contractor begins to hire. Andpass the word!" Nobody showed much enthusiasm. One man with a querulous mouth suggested:"It will seem like helping waste money, tearing down a stand ofbuildings that ain't in any ways due to be scrapped; I ain't sure butwhat it will seem like a worse waste of money, building a palace in atown like this. Don't you expect to be taxed like Sancho?" "Until we get some kind of legislation or court action to make our townacts legal, the taxation question isn't worrying me much, " said Britt, grimly. "I'll take my chances along with the rest of you on getting anact allowing us to compound with creditors. " "Probably can be arranged, " said a man with the malice against theusurer that prevailed in the oppressed town. "We're sending a good manto the next legislature. " But Britt, in that new mood of his, was refusing to be baited. He beganto look about. "Where is that person who calls himself a Prophet?" The others joined with Britt in making a survey of the landscape. Nobodyhad been paying any attention to Elias, whose voice had been stilledsince the one-sided affair with Britt. "There he is, " announced a man. The Prophet was patrolling. He was marching to and fro in front ofBritt's house. Then he walked in through a gap in Britt's fence and wentto the house and peered in at one of the windows. He had lowered andfolded his big umbrella and carried it under his arm. "I call on all of you to note what he did then, " called Britt. "He hasbeen doing that lately. " The Prophet returned to the road. Then he seemed to be attacked byanother idea. He went back through the gap in the fence and peered in atanother window. "I repeat, he has been doing that. I was getting ready to take propermeasures to handle him. Something better than talking back to a lunatic!But I didn't reckon I'd have such good luck as this! Twelve men righthere for my witnesses! Look hard at him, men!" They did look, though they did not comprehend what Britt's excitedinsistence signified. He pulled out a notebook and pencil and handed itto the nearest man. "Mark down two! Mark it down--and all of you takedue notice. " The Prophet returned to the highway and came slowly pacing along towardthe group. "All of you saw, did you? All of you ready to bear witness?" demandedthe magnate. He stepped out in front of Elias when the latter came near. Britt shookthe roll of drawings under the Prophet's nose. "Listen here, my man! Ididn't bother to talk to you a few minutes ago. Now I'm talking. You'vebeen a vagabond in this town for a long time. The only thing that hasprotected you from the law in such cases made and provided has been theroof of a man who ought to be a tramp along with you. Right now, beforethe eyes of a dozen citizens, you have committed two separate anddistinct breaches of the law. You have trespassed on my property. Inthe past I have sent men to jail for sixty days for one offense of thatsort. On my complaint, backed by these witnesses, you'll see sixty dayson one case--and I'll have you re-arrested on the other count the momentyou step foot out of the jail. " He paused. "Yes?" said the Prophet, mildly inquiring. "I'm a fair man, and I call the attention of these witnesses to what Isay now. I'll give you a chance. Walk out of this town and stay out, andI'll not prosecute. " The Prophet shook his head. "Do you refuse to go?" For a man who dealt so exclusively in texts, the Prophet was rathervulgarly blunt when he replied, "You bet!" Britt received that manner of retort with the air of a man who had beentunked between the eyes. It was some moments before he could goon. "Don't you realize what the judge will say when I show up yourwillfulness?" The Prophet was even more amazing in his new manners. He stuck out histongue, put his thumb to his nose, and wriggled his fingers. "Well, I'll be condemned!" Britt gasped. "Sure! When all the evidence is in about you!" The magnate of Egypt lowered the roll that he had brandished soconstantly. After a few moments of silent challenge with the eyes, heturned and walked away. But he heard the mumble of men's laughter behind him, and his angerand the determination not to be put down in this style in his own townhelped him to get back some of his self-possession. He whirled on hisheels and strode to the enigma of Egypt. "Who are you, anyway?" he demanded. But Prophet Elias was his usual self once more. He had assumed that airwhich a practical man like Britt found an aggravating, teasing pose ora kind of lunacy with which common sense could not cope. Elias slowlyspread his umbrella. He stood beneath it and declaimed: "'And Moses and Aaron did all these wonders before Pharaoh; and theLord hardened Pharaoh's heart, so that he would not let the children ofIsrael go out of his land. '" "You let me tell you something! There's one man going out of thisland mighty sudden--and he's going to the county jail in charge of aconstable. " When Britt started away that time he kept on going. He went to theoffice of Trial-Justice Bowman and swore out a warrant. A constableserved it and the Prophet was haled before the justice. On the evidencepresented, Bowman sentenced a person known as "the Prophet Elias" toserve sixty days in the county jail. Within an hour after the Prophet'sdefiance he was on his way with the constable in a side-bar buggy. The Prophet had not opened his mouth to give out even one text. He hadnot opened his mouth, either, to give his name; the writ designated himmerely by his sobriquet. But there was a queer little wrinkle at eachcorner of that closed mouth. CHAPTER XX NO STRAW FOR THE BRICKS Mr. Harnden banged his pulpy fist on the board at which so he haddeclared, Tasper Britt was to sit. "I have ruled a happy home by love in the past. Don't force me to ruleit otherwise now. " He was obliged to lower his eyes to a level at last because his neckached. He was forced to turn those eyes in his daughter's direction, for her gaze was of that compelling quality which causes the object ofregard to return the scrutiny. "I tell you, I'm not lowering myself by taking in boarders, " the fatherinsisted. "I have become tied up in a business way with my friend Britt. We need to be in conference right along. They're going to tear down hishouse. Shall I let it be said that I left a friend ahungered and withouta roof? Shall--" "Father, I'm no longer patient enough to listen to any more of thatnonsense, " said Vona. "But it isn't nonsense, " put in the mother. "Poor Tasper is left withouta home. Files's vittles have nigh killed him. He was always used to homecooking. He--" "Please! Please!" protested the girl, impatiently. "We're threegrown-ups. Let's be honest with one another. I, at least, have beenhonest--ever since I declared myself under this roof last winter. " "If you're bound to put your father's and your mother's close friendshipfor a man strictly on the business basis, we'll have it that way, "agreed Mr. Harnden, trying to straightedge his little bunghole of amouth and failing. "Very well, father! We shall get along better. I'm not in any positionto dictate in our home--" "Well, I should say not!" exploded the master. "But I have worked and turned in my money to help support it, and I havemy personal rights here. " Mr. Harnden had more success in arranging the expression he assumedthen; he looked hurt; he had been very successful with that expressionin the past. "Any farseeing man has his ups and downs, Vona. Is it kindto twit your father--" She protested more impatiently still. "I am simply presenting thebusiness side of the matter. I say, I have earned some rights to becomfortable in my own home. On the plea of friendship for a man whom Idetest, you are proposing to destroy that comfort. Is your friendshipfor that man greater than your love for your daughter?" Mr. Harnden rose and stuck out his frontal convexity and wagged aforefinger. "Now you're getting off the question of business--justas you accused me of getting off it!" He slapped his breast. "I'm abusiness man these days. I'm no longer a man with visions, needing adaughter's sacrifices, like you have twitted me of being. Keep still!I'm talking!" he squealed. He was displaying more of the new and cockydemeanor that had been his for some time. He had been especially set upfor a few days prior to his announcement that Tasper Britt was cominginto the Harnden home as lodger and guest at table. "Business it is!Britt will pay board enough, seeing that he has come to my--_my_ terms, so that your mother can keep a hired girl for the first time in herlife. Are you so selfish as to want to have your mother--my wife--goon potwalloping in the kitchen for the rest of her days? If that's so, you'll find that my pride will override your selfishness. " "Father, I will stay at home and do all the work, if you'll keep ourhome from being desecrated by that man!" Mr. Harnden reared his crest and advanced one foot. "I have raised mydaughter to be a lady and will keep her so! I'm now in a position to doit without any of her help. " Vona stood up then. But not to fling angry retort at her father! Sheknew that she was able to conquer the raging self that was urging herto tell both of them what she thought of their idiotic persistencyin backing the attentions of Britt. Being victor over herself in thatconflict with self where so many fail, she felt courage to battle inanother quarter. Since Frank had been penned up where he couldnot fight, she had felt that she was the champion for their mutualinterests, and she was resolved to keep on valiantly. "Father, you knowhow I stand in the matter of Frank Vaniman. " "I have broken your engagement with that jailbird. " "Vona, I have told you repeatedly that I will never consent to yourmarrying that man, " shrilled Mrs. Harnden. "What does the Bible sayabout obeying your parents?" The girl was tensely suppressing her emotions. "The outsiders merelyknow that I am engaged to marry him. But both of you know that I ammarried to him. " Mr. Harnden sat down in order to express his emotions; Mrs. Harndenstood up. Their duet of disavowal of any such knowledge was keyed high. "You heard me when I married him--in your presence--under this roof. Thelegal formality can wait. But I am married. In my heart I am married. It is enough for me until he comes back to me. And what God hath joinedtogether let not man put asunder!" She said it reverently, with all hersoul in her tones, all her woman's resolution of loyalty in her eyes. They tried to say something, but in the face of her demeanor of firmnesstheir opposition was futile, and they probably realized it, for theybecame silent and allowed her to speak on. "If you do not choose to consider my feelings in the matter, I'll notcomplain. You are master and mistress of the home. I tell you now, as Ihave told you before, that if Tasper Britt had come out with the wholetruth Frank would not be in prison. You must not expect that I will sitat table with a man who has so persecuted my--husband!" She hesitateda moment before she spoke the last word. She caressed it with lovinginflection. A moment later her cheeks were burning hotly. She went outinto the hall, got her sunshade, and left the house. She still had her work at the bank; the progress of liquidation wasslow. Tasper Britt, from his office window, saw her coming. She wore nohat. The parasol framed the face that was still glowing after her battlefor the sanctity of her love. "It's worth it!" he muttered; but not even to himself did Britt mentionwhat the price was. Mr. Harnden's comment, delayed for some minutes, was that the girl wasputting it almighty strong. "It's her loyalty. She can't help it. She takes it from me, " declaredthe mother, pouring another cup of tea for her shaken nerves. "She does, hey?" Mr. Harnden's voice indicated that he was notcommending the quality mentioned. His wife was decidedly tart in her retort that he ought to be thankfulfor the loyalty that enabled her to put up with all the privations ofthe past. "Well, let the past be the past. I've got my feet placed now--and thathired girl is coming to-morrow. " The idea of his new prosperity revivedMr. Harnden's natural optimism. "That jailbird hasn't been away from herlong enough for her to be weaned from her foolishness about him. He'ssafe away for seven years, and a whole lot can happen in that time--evento that loyalty that women seem to set such store by. My friend Brittcomes here--into our family! That's understood. If Vona wants to eatoff'n the mantelshelf in her room, well and good till she's tamed. Andnow--to work--to work!" Mr. Harnden was truly very much up-and-coming those days. He roseand shook out first one leg and then the other, with the manner of ascratching rooster. The movements settled the legs of his trousers. Hehad a new suit of his own. It resembled Tasper Britt's. That new suitand the yellow gloves and the billycock hat excited some interest inEgypt; the new hitch that Harnden possessed excited much more interest. He was driving a "trappy" bay nag, and his new road wagon had rubbertires. Nor was Mr. Harnden doing any more inventing, so he declared tothe public. The public, however, did declare behind his back that hemust have invented something in the way of a system to be able to wearthose clothes and drive that hitch. To be sure, there were some whoinsisted that the matter of Vona was still potent with Britt and thatBritt's money was behind Harnden. But there were more who were certainthat it was not the style of Britt to invest in any such remotepossibility as a girl who openly declared that she proposed to waitseven years for the man of her choice. Harnden had a new business; he was selling nursery stock. But thatbusiness did not account for his prosperity. He was taking town ordersfor his goods--taking orders on the town treasury, orders that had longbeen creased in wallets or had grown yellow in bureau drawers or hadbeen dickered about at a few cents on the dollar and accepted when adebtor had nothing else with which to pay. Mr. Harnden said he was readyto take town orders at any time. He optimistically declared that hisfaith in the old town was firmly fixed. That optimism was entirely inaccord with Mr. Harnden's past professions; and nobody wondered much, because he was so foolish. But he was not wholly a fool in that matter. He had only about a fifty-per-cent faith in Egypt--he insisted on thatmuch discount when he took in a town order. Even at that rate, OssianOrne did insist that Harnden was a complete fool. Orne would not taketown orders for his nursery stock. But Orne's nose was out of joint, itwas generally agreed. Harnden's lithographs showed apples twice as bigas Orne's book did; the pears fairly oozed sweetness from their plump, pictured mellowness; there were peaches that provoked folks to makefunny noises at the corners of their mouths when the optimistic Harndenflipped a page and brought the fruit to view. Nobody had ever heard ofa peach tree growing among the rocks of Egypt. On the other hand, nobodysupposed that a town order on the Egypt treasury was worth anything, asthings stood. There were folks who bought peach trees! And in the meantime there was much clatter in and about the old Britthouse, tumble of timbers and rip of wainscotings and snarl of drawingnails. Out from the gaping windows floated the powdery drift of theplastering which the broad shovels had tackled. The satirists said thatit was noticeable that the statue of Tasper Britt in the cemetery hadsettled down heavier on its heels, as if making grimly sure that Hittiewas staying where she could not interfere. In the meantime, also, Tasper Britt and a hired girl had become fixturesin the Harnden home--and the hired girl was quite in love with Vona andin entire sympathy with her stand; the girl brought to Vona's room thetidbits of all the meals and offered to put tacks in Britt's doughnutsif that would help matters any. Vona was entirely serene in her companionship with her father and hermother. As for Tasper Britt, in sitting room or hall, on the street oron the lawn of the Harndens, he was ignored as completely, yet sweetly, as if he were an innocuous dweller in the so-called Fourth Dimension--tobe seen through--even walked through--a mere shade, uninterred, unhonored, and unwarranted. Tasper Britt, relentlessly on the job of punishing those who hadpoisoned his pride and his peace of mind, acknowledged to himself thatthe attitude of this girl was reacting on him in the way of more acutepunishment than he was dealing out to anybody just then, except toVaniman. Through the latter the girl was punished. But that punishmenthad steeled her to the stand she was making in the case of Britt. Thegod of the machine pondered on the case and constantly found himself ina more parlous state of mind because he did ponder. Mr. Harnden tried his best to cheer the morose Britt. Some days theusurer-suitor wanted to cuff the optimist; some days he felt that hewould go crazy unless Harnden could extend some hope, suggest some wayof changing the girl's attitude. All the time Mr. Harnden was very cheerful and extremely busy; his nagkicked up the dust along all the roads. His book of lithographs wasdog's-eared with much thumbing, but he had served as a human vacuumcleaner in sucking up most of the town orders. Mr. Harnden was very freewith information, customarily. But when folks asked him whatever in theworld he expected to do with those town orders he was reticent as to anydetails of his plans. He considered that his optimism of faith in thefuture of the town covered the matter. He said so. He let it go at that. One day Harnden roamed far afield and went to the shire. The next day he came back from the shire. After supper he sat in a wicker chair on the lawn with Tasper Britt, whowas wearing a new suit of white flannel and who scowled when Vona passedalong the walk without even a glance in that direction, though Britt hadtwitched up his trousers leg to show a particularly handsomely clockedsock. Mr. Harnden did a lot of talking that evening. Every now and then, as ifto fortify his optimistic courage, he declared, "After all, businessis business--and the trend of the times is to make the most ofopportunity. " Britt was showing interest in what Harnden was saying--interest andsatisfaction, too. But all at once that interest was diverted and thesmooth satisfaction was wrinkled by a scowl. Britt swore roundly andstruggled up from his chair. Prophet Elias was passing along the street. He flapped his hand in agreeting contemptuously indifferent and went on his way toward Usial'scot. "Oh! I was intending to tell you about him, " avowed Mr. Harnden, "butI've had more important things to talk over!" Britt gave to this blunderheaded news purveyor the tail end of themalevolent stare that he had been bestowing on the Prophet's back. "I heard about it when I was over to the shire town. A city lawyershowed up the other day and deposited cash bonds and got out a writ, and got Elias out, too, and the case has been appealed. Looks like theProphet has footed it back here again. But I suppose you can arrest himon that other case of trespass. " Britt did not show especial alacrity in starting anything else in thecase of the new arrival in town. He sat down. "Who was the lawyer? Whosent him?" "Guess he didn't say. Let the money do the talking for him. And moneycan talk! Now, as I was saying, to get back to our regular business, it's up to you to name the ones that Dowd will tackle. Say, where areyou going?" Britt was on his feet and moving rapidly. "Somewhere to do some thinkingaway from that carpet-loom, shuttle-tongued, infernal mouth of yours!" Mr. Harnden, astonished and much hurt, watched the usurer till hetramped into Britt Block. But Mr. Harnden had too much important business of his own on his mindto use time in wondering how a Prophet had managed to get out of jail. CHAPTER XXI BLOOD OUT OF TURNIPS In the past Mr. Harnden had regularly referred to Egypt as a goodjumping-off place; he emphasized the jest by pointing to the ledgeoutcroppings which indicated that the landscape would not sag under theweight of the most energetic jumper. Then away he would go! His detractors said that he was in the habit of coming home when affairswere in such a bad way with him that he could not stay anywhere else. His wife and daughter had never admitted anything of the sort, even toeach other. They affectionately welcomed Mr. Harnden when he came; afterhe had stoked the fires of his faith, and they had darned his socks andmended his shirts, they gave him the accustomed encouraging and lovingGodspeed when he went away again under a full head of optimism. Theyalways agreed with him, on each going-away, that this was surely thetime when Opportunity was waiting outside. But for many weeks Opportunity had seemed to be camping with Mr. Harndenright in his own home town. He was brisk, radiant, and apparentlyprosperous. Therefore, when he announced in the bosom of his family that he proposedto go away for a time, his wife and daughter were frankly astonished. It was directly after breakfast on the morning following Mr. Harnden'sreturn from the shire town. He did not display his usual jocose manner when he referred to Egypt asa jumping-off place. Vona found a sort of furtive uneasiness in the wayhe glanced out of the window and fingered his vest-pocket equipment. Andhe trod to and fro with the air of a man stepping on hot bricks. "But you have said you are doing so well in your new business, father!"Vona's straightforward gaze was disconcerting. Mr. Harnden kept on with his patrol. "Confound it. I've got to get intotowns where there's more dirt if I'm going to sell any more nurserystock!" "Oh, is that it? But I happened to go up in the attic and I found yoursample books thrown behind a trunk, and I was afraid--" "Afraid of what?" he demanded, with childish temper. "Afraid you were giving up what seems to be a sure thing. The otherventures have been such uncertainties!" she returned, her businesswoman's composure unaffected by his reproachful stare. "The books were all smutched up--too many dirty fingers afoul of them. I shall get new ones--providing I stay in that line. " He was notconvincing. "We'll see--we'll see! I've got to be moving. These are busytimes for me. " "But you don't say when you're coming back, Joe!" quavered his wife. "Why should I begin to set dates now, when I never have in past times?" "Oh, I suppose it's because we've got so used to having you at home, "she confessed. "I'm leaving matters in better shape than I ever did before, " said Mr. Harnden, pompously. "I have been worried about my home in the past whenI have had to be absent on my business. We have Tasper in the house now. And he will not only guard and protect, but he will pay as he goes. Imay not go far or stay long. Just let it stand that way. Tell inquiringfriends that. I'll keep you posted. You know what my business is; ittakes me here--it takes me there. " He gave his wife a peck of a kiss andpatted Vona's shoulder when he passed her. He picked up a valise in thehallway. The girl followed him. "Father, always when you have been away, motherand I have felt perfectly comfortable and safe here in our home. If Mr. Britt hasn't the sense or the good taste to go somewhere else to board, won't you suggest to him that he'd better do so?" "Nothing of the sort, Vona!" declared Harnden. "That contractor hasbrought a lot of strangers here to work on Britt's house, seeing thatthe men of this town are biting off their noses to spite their faces!I wouldn't take a minute's peace, knowing that my home is unprotected, unless I felt that a friend of mine was here as guardian. Oh, I knowwhat you mean! But I have the safety of my family to consider instead ofa girl's whims. " She did not argue the matter. His peppery impatience was increasing. This time he was not departing with his customary bland hopefulness. She knew the sort of selfishness her father possessed and how he avoidedscenes that troubled his smug serenity. But on this occasion he seemedto be impelled by some urgent reason outside of mere anxiety to be awayfrom complaining tongues. He hurried out of the house and went to the stable, and she said nofurther word. Ten minutes later he drove away, flinging a kiss to his womenfolks fromthe finger tips of the yellow gloves. He headed directly out of the village and drove at a good clip. However, one might have concluded that Mr. Harnden's destination was notas clearly settled in his mind as the haste of his departure suggested. When he came to four corners he pulled up and looked to right and toleft and to the straight ahead. Mr. Harnden was too well acquaintedwith all the roads of Egypt and its environs to be confused by anythingexcept strictly personal and peculiar doubts which had nothing to dowith the matter of destination. He looked up into the heavens, as if hereally wished that he might be able to escape from Egypt by flight. Thenhe did literally what the Yankee phrase suggests by way of synonym fortaking counsel--"he looked between the horse's ears. " He narrowedhis eyes in meditation and spoke aloud. "I reckon it's only generalnervousness on account of overwork and women's foolishness. There ain'tone chance in ten that they'll get around to it to-day. " Arriving at that comfortable conclusion, Mr. Harnden lighted a cigar andchirruped to his horse and drove straight on. The road zigzagged through an alder swamp for some distance, and thehorse footed along slowly because a portion of the way was patched withsapling "corduroy. " And with the impulse of a man who had been obligedto waste time, and saw an opportunity to get on, Harnden whipped up whenhe was again facing a smooth road. Therefore he came suddenly aroundthe bend of the alders into cleared country and abreast a farm. It wasa farm made up of the alluvial soil of the lowlands and was a ratherpretentious tract of tillage, compared with the other hillside apologiesof Egypt. And the buildings were in fairly good repair. It was the homeof Jared Sparks Grant, the first selectman of the town. Mr. Harnden did not look to right or left as his horse trotted past. He did not appear to be interested in the affairs of Egyptians thatday--even in the case of the town's chief executive. When Harnden washailed raucously he did not pull up, though he heard his name. After afew moments a gun banged behind him. "I'm saving the other barrel, " the voice announced, after Harnden hadsteered his horse from the gutter into the road; the animal had beenfrightened by the pattering of shot in the foliage of a tree overhead. "You'll get it straight, Harnden, unless you drive back here!" When Harnden wheeled the horse and returned he perceived a dooryardgroup which he had affected not to see a few moments before. There were Jared Sparks Grant, his son, his womenfolks, his hiredman; Mr. Harnden recognized all of them, of course. He also recognizedDeputy-sheriff Wagner Dowd from the shire town. Dowd had a couple ofhelpers with him. It was plain that the shotgun which had halted Mr. Harnden had been very nigh at hand and ready for use; there was a lookabout the folks in the dooryard which suggested an armed truce, nowprolonged, for the handling of the new arrival. "Don't you realize what's going on here?" demanded Selectman Grant, hisweapon in the hook of his arm. "No!" asserted Mr. Harnden. "I know a blamed sight better! You can't look at this deputy sheriffwithout turning redder than one of the apples in that fake picture bookof yours. You know what you have been doing in this town. " The selectman's tone was offensively harsh and loud. Mr. Harndenwas moved to show a little spirit, having been cornered--and feelingprotected by the presence of an officer of the law. "I have been doingbusiness!" "Scooping in town orders, you mean!" "Taking them in the due course of my business, Mr. Selectman. I had aright to do it!" "And what did you do with those orders?" "I passed them on--still in the course of my business. " "And you don't know into whose hands they have come?" "Oh no!" The selectman stepped close to the carriage and brandished his gun. "While this town was staggering along, trying to find a way out, onlya hellion would take and make a club out of those orders and hit us thelast and final clip with 'em. You've done it, Harnden! For the sake ofthe dirty money you've done it. They were letting those orders resteasy till we could get the legislature and have things put into somecondition where we'd know what's what. Through your work some landpirate has got hold of those town orders. There isn't a cent in the towntreasury. You know it. " He whirled away from Harnden and shook the gun at the deputy sheriff. "I sha'n't believe your law, Dowd, till I've been and talked with SquireHexter. " "Go and talk! But in the meantime a good lawyer has told me what todo and has given me the documents, and I'm not trying the case in yourdooryard. I have levied on those oxen and I shall take 'em along. " "Do you hear that, Harnden? That's what you have done to your town, "bellowed the infuriated selectman. "He says there's a law allowing acreditor to levy on the property of any citizen of a town to satisfya judgment. Judgment has been secured on those town orders. They arejumping on me first. " "It's what the lawyer told me to do, " insisted the officer. "'Start withthe selectman, ' says he. 'That shows the others where they get off. 'Grant, I'm here with the papers and the right to act. " He advanced closeto the selectman, waggling admonitory forefinger. "I've been excusingyour feelings. I don't blame you! This is tough. It's the penalty youpay for living in such a town. But I don't propose to stand for any moreof that gunplay. Hand it over!" Grant hesitated. The officer snatched away the gun, broke it down, and pulled out the undischarged shell. He put that into his pocket andshoved the gun under the seat of a wagon. "You can have this gun backafter the war is over. Now to business! You claim that the oxen areexempt because you have no horses. All right! I see you have a dozencows. I'll take three of those. I'm fair, you see! You're only entitledto one cow. But keep nine. I'm going to spread the thing around towntill I have enough to satisfy this judgment. It's for one hundred andninety dollars. What say, now? Do you want to pay a fine for obstructingan officer?" Selectman Grant shook his head. The flame of his rage had died down intosullen rancor. He went along to Harnden's carriage and suddenly nippedthat gentleman's nose between toil-calloused index and middle fingers. "They tell me there's no law against doing this, " he said between hisyellow, hard-set teeth, as he twisted at the nose, while Harnden's eyesran water. "If there is a law, I hope you'll stay handy by in thistown and prosecute while we're heating the tar and getting the feathersready. " Sheriff Dowd took advantage of Selectman Grant's preoccupation withHarnden. He gave off orders to his helpers and they lowered the bars ofthe barnyard and started away with the cows. There was a general disintegration of the group. Mrs. Grant led thelamenting womenfolk into the house. Mr. Harnden did not really extricatehis nose; Grant twisted so violently that he broke his own grip, and hisvictim laced the whip under the horse's belly and escaped. Within ten minutes Selectman Grant was whipping his own horse in adirection opposite to that which Harnden had taken. Mr. Grant was hotafter law. Squire Hexter gave him the law, and cold comfort. "They can do it, Jared. Outsiders can get hold of unpaid town ordersand put on the screws if they're that heartless. It isn't done once in adog's age. But, as I say, it can be done when a creditor is ugly enough. Harnden didn't say, did he, just who brought the orders?" "I wouldn't have believed him if he did say! But he didn't say. " "And you don't know the man who secured judgment?" "Never heard of him. " "I will try to trace the matter, Jared. No, keep your wallet in yourpocket. There's no charge. It's a case where the interests of thecitizens in general are concerned. I'm the regularly elected town agent, as you know!" The Squire smiled. "I'll take a town order for my pay. "He looked out of the window. "It's about time for somebody else to comelarruping up here after law! Don't hurry, Jared! Wait and hear what'shappened to the neighbors!" The selectman sat gloomily, elbows squared on his knees, and waited. Almost opposite the Squire's office the rattle-te-bang business onBritt's premises was going on. "I wonder whether Tasper will dare to go ahead and build his palaceafter he hears the latest news, " suggested the Squire. "You must betold, Jared, that after the live stock of the town has been thinneddown to the essentials permitted by law, then the farms and general realestate can be levied on. " Grant lifted his haggard face and stared at the Squire. "Then, outsideof the cook stove and my clothes, I don't know whether I'm worth ablasted cent, hey? They can dreen me slow with a gimlet, or let it outall at once with a pod auger, can they? That's what the law can do _to_me, you say! What can it do _for_ me, Squire Hexter?" "Well, Jared, they'll take your cows over to the shire and auction themoff for what they'll bring. You can sue this town and recover the realvalue of the cows, along with interest at twelve per cent. That is tosay, you can get judgment against the town for that amount. " "And then I can go over to my neighbor's and grab away any looseproperty I can find of his?" "You can do it!" "Look here, Squire, that makes it nothing except a game of 'tag, you'reit, ' and a case of 'I've got my fingers crossed'! The whole of usrunning around in circles, and the lawyers picking up all the loosechange we drop from our pockets. Where do we wind up?" The Squire shook his head slowly and reached down and stroked one ofEli's ears. "Eli was telling me that Jones thought he had inventedperpetual motion when he tied a piece of liver to a pup's tail and setthe pup to revolving; but the pup wore out. " Grant sat for some minutes and harkened to the bang of the hammersacross the way. "I don't understand how a farseeing man like Tasp Brittdares to build a good house here, " he growled. "Oh, the pup may be worn out by the time it is finished--or thosetowers may mean that he intends to list it as a meetinghouse and have itexempted from taxation, Jared. We shall see!" But whatever it was that the selectman saw, as he sat there and staredat the wall of Squire Hexter's office, it evidently was not serving inthe way of comfort. The Squire's prediction about other seekers for law was fulfilled beforelong. The deputy sheriff had proceeded on his travels. The afflictedparties came up the Squire's stairs. Arden Young reported that threeof his best cows were driven away. George Jordan and his cousin J. O. Jordan each surrendered two faithful moolies. It was plain that SheriffDowd proposed to make sure that there was auction material enough toyield one hundred and ninety dollars, along with the costs. "Jared, " suggested the notary, "you'd better have an accounting and findout how many of those town orders were issued when the reckless spiritwas on. Somebody has decided to milk the old town. It is being donescientifically, seeing that this first mess is so modest. But we need toknow about how many messes we're expected to give down. " Inside of a fortnight there were two more milkings. At about that time Tasper Britt started proceedings to foreclose acouple of mortgages. The debtors despondently declared that they wouldnot attempt to redeem the property; they told Britt that he couldhave it for what he could get out of it. The usurer tried to showdisinclination to take over real estate in Egypt, but he did not make avery good job of the pretense. He had the air of a man who expected tobe obliged to tussle for something, but had had the something droppedinto his grasp when he merely touched the holder's knuckles. Britt had a map of the town in his office desk. He began to colorsections with a red crayon. According to Mr. Britt's best judgment inthe matter, he was in a fine way to own a whole town--a barony six milessquare--at an extremely reasonable figure. From the selectman down, nobody seemed to feel that Egypt property was worth anything. As tobeginning suits against the town, nobody felt like paying lawyers' feesand piling up costs. It was like tilting against a fog bank. And in averitable fog bank of doubt and despair the unhappy Egyptians wanderedaround and around. CHAPTER XXII THE TAUT STRING SNAPS Frank Vaniman's mother was allowed to visit him once a month at theprison. She was not present at his trial. She had respected his earnestwishes in that matter. When she came to him she smiled--she did not weep. When she smiled hewanted to weep. He realized how much that display of calm courage wascosting Martha Vaniman. He remembered how bravely and steadfastly shehad brought that same heroine's quality to the support of his fatherwhen she had taken Frank with her to the prison; they used to walk inthrough the gloomy portal hand in hand, and, though her face was serene, her throbbing fingers told him what her heart was saying to her. Her husband had thankfully accepted that little fiction of herfortitude; her son, under like circumstances, did the same. Betweenmother and son, as between husband and wife, was the bond of an implicitfaith in the innocence of the accused. Love was not shamed, no matterhow the outside world might view the matter. The prison warden was a fat man, full of sympathy. He gave themother and son the privileges of his office, and to those reassuringsurroundings the mother brought Frank's sister on one of the regularvisits. After Mr. Wagg's guile gave Vaniman his outdoor job, the mother broughtAnna each month, for the school vacation season was on. The sun wasbright out there in the yard. One could look up into the fleecy clouds, over the walls, and forget the bars and the armed guards. In fact, one day, Anna's ingenuous forgetfulness of the true situationprovoked real merriment for the little party--Guard Wagg included. Anna surveyed apprehensively several particularly villainous-lookingbarrowmen who passed and expressed the devout hope that Frank always sawto it carefully that he locked his bedroom door nights. Before all the zest of that joke had evaporated, Mrs. Vaniman departed;it was a part of her helpful tact in alleviating the grievous situationin which Frank was placed. She always came with the best little piece ofnews she could provide for the meeting; for the parting she reserved abit of a joke. Mr. Wagg chuckled for a long time after the visitors went away. Gradually his face became serious. "Of course, I have to sit here andlisten to what's said, because that's my duty. But, as I have toldyou before, all family matters simply pass into one ear and out of theother. " "I'm mighty grateful for the way you have treated us, " said Vaniman. "The fact that we haven't done business as yet hasn't changed me--neverwill change me. That mother of yours is so fine a woman that shedeserves every favor that I can grant her, for her own sake. And, shebeing so fine a woman, I was sorry to hear what you wormed out of herthis day--that she has gone back to work in the store again. " "It was the one big happiness in my life in Egypt, Mr. Wagg, to feelthat at last my mother was having the little rest and comfort that shedeserved. I used to look ahead to the time when I could give her what Iwas able to give her while I was at work. I had a dreadful struggle withher, getting her to leave her work. The only way I ever did get aroundher was to complain that she was spoiling my prettiest dream by stayingin the store. And now it's all to do over again. I haven't even therealization of the dream to help me here. " "It's tough--realizing what you could do if you had the chance, and notbeing able to do it, " averred Mr. Wagg. He lighted his pipe and slid offhis stool. "A woman earning her living these days has to do a terriblelot of hard work in seven years. " And having, after his usual custom, lighted a fire under the kettle, Mr. Wagg went to a distance and allowed the contents to boil. The contents did boil that day, when Vaniman had an opportunity to dosome concentrated thinking. That morning he had received his weekly letter from Vona. She confessedto him that for some weeks she had refrained from telling him thatTasper Britt was a member of the household. She explained under whatcircumstances Britt was there and what her attitude was and wouldcontinue to be. She had not written anything about the matter, she said, on account of her anxiety to keep petty troubles and worries away fromone who was suffering from such cruel injustice. But now that her fatherhad gone away for an indefinite stay, leaving Britt as general guardian, she wrote to Vaniman to anticipate any rumors which might reach theyoung man from another quarter. She did not state that this intrusion by Britt into her home wasperpetual persecution where she was concerned; Vaniman felt that shedid not need to say so. His imagination pictured the situation. He hadbecome morbid. He admitted it, but he could not help himself. He haddone his best to keep his judgments sane and his hopes untarnished. Buthe was judging Britt by what Britt had already done, and he was in amood to believe that Britt would be able to go ahead and accomplish alot more in the way of hideous deviltry. The thought of Britt in thathouse--a girl there with no other protection than the presence of asilly mother--made for agony of apprehension that was excruciating. One of his most precious dreams had just melted into drab reality--hismother was compelled to go back to her toil. His other dream--the one that was consoling him through the dreary waitof seven years behind bars--was threatened by the malevolence of a manwho was showing himself to be a veritable fiend in his machinations. Vaniman put some questions to himself. Who on God's green earth had amore imperious call to be out--to be free to fight for himself and theinnocent? Would not a lie be holy if it should open prison doors andallow a guiltless man to go forth and battle with the guilty? Did notthe end justify all the means? The state had declared that his libertymust be forfeited. Had the state the right to take away his reason?Vaniman told himself that he was on the straight road to lunacy. He leaped up, in the frenzy of his determination forgetting that therewere preliminaries yet to be attended to. "Sit down there, Convict Two-Seven-Nine, or I'll bore ye!" bawled GuardWagg, with a mighty volume of tone. A deputy warden was crossing theyard. He flourished a commendatory salute to the vigilant warder. "Good stuff, Bart! Always on your job, eh?" "Always!" agreed Mr. Wagg. The warden went on his way and the guard marched to the convict witha manner which expressed a determination to give No. 279 an earful. Hestood over Vaniman, who had dropped back to the chair, and the two ofthem swapped stares. "I want to get out--I want to get out!" whimpered Vaniman. Mr. Wagg nodded. "What must I do?" "Whack up with me--fifty-fifty. Haven't I told you times enough?" "But, I mean, what must I do to help?" "I don't need any of your help. I only want you to say that you'll leadme to that money. " Vaniman drew a deep breath. "I will lead you to that money. " "Some men would make you swear that you know just where the coin is, "proceeded Wagg. "But I'm playing my own hunch in this thing on thatpoint. Furthermore, I have talked with a chap named Bixby. " He lookedhard at the ex-cashier. "Bixby tied your little game into knots, didn'the?" Vaniman admitted that fact by a rueful sag of his chin. "Confidence--mutual confidence in each other!" Mr. Wagg walked away. When he came back past Vaniman, patrolling, he snapped: "No more talk!No more need of talk. Never can tell when talk may trip us. From now on, sit tight!" After that, though days passed, Wagg had not one word for theamelioration of the convict's impatience. Then, one day, Wagg changedhis job again. Vaniman was kept at the same work, if work it could becalled. He caught glimpses of Wagg. The guard was busy on the oppositeside of the big pit. He had two or three convict helpers. They began tooperate drills in the side of a rocky hillock which towered considerablyabove the level of the yard. News circulates inside prison walls despite the inhibition oncommunications between the inmates. Vaniman got information piecemealfrom convicts who stopped near him on the pretense of spitting on theirhands to get a new grip on their barrow handles. He learned that theplan was to mine the hillock and rig a blast that would tip it into thepit for filling. The barrow work was proving too slow an operation andthe prison commissioners wanted the outside men put back into the shopswhere they could earn money for the state. It was evident that Guard Wagg was having a great deal of trouble withhis helpers. He was continually bawling them out with a violence whosevolume reached the ears of Vaniman. One day Wagg perceived the warden inspecting the work from the edge ofthe pit near Vaniman; the guard came trotting around. "Warden, I'm an expert on quarry work, as you know, " he panted. "I'mdoing my best to show you that I haven't forgotten what I learned overat Stoneport, and to back up what I promised you and the commissionersafter I gave you the tip as to what could be done with that hill. Muchobliged to you for allowing me all the dynamite I need. But, demmit!I haven't got anybody with brains to help me handle it. It's notionalstuff, sir. It hates a blasted fool. " He pointed a finger at the menacross the pit. Their striped suits suggested the nomenclature he used"Those potato bugs will do something to blow us to blazes sure'n there'sair in a doughnut hole!" The warden showed his concern. "Don't you know of some man who is usedto dynamite?" "That ain't it, sir. A fool gets used to it, till he's too cussedfamiliar. I want a man with brains enough to be polite to it. " The warden, making a general survey of the scene, beheld Vaniman. "A manwho knows enough to be a bank cashier ought to have brains, Wagg. Howabout Number Two-Seven-Nine?" Mr. Wagg contemplated Vaniman and took plenty of time for thought. "I'lltry him, " he said, without enthusiasm. "I hadn't thought of him--butI'll try him. " Directed to do so by the warden, Vaniman went to his new work with Wagg. The latter exhibited no especial symptoms of satisfaction at securingsuch a helper. He told the young man that his particular care would bethe dynamite--to handle the boxes, store them in the little shed, unpackthe sticks, and follow the drills, planting the rendrock ready for theblast that was to topple the hillock into the pit. Mr. Wagg explained tothe warden, after a time, that the dynamite could be planted more safelyand to better advantage when the drillers were off the job. Therefore, Vaniman was detailed to help during the noon hour while the prisonerswere at dinner. But, even when they were alone together, day after day, Mr. Waggmaintained his reticence. Once in a while he did wink at Vaniman. Thewinks grew more frequent when Mr. Wagg began to connect up the dynamitepockets in the hill with wires. One afternoon, near knocking-off time, he stepped into the shed where Vaniman was covering up his boxes for thenight. "When you leave your cell in the morning, " said the man whohad promised freedom, "hide in your pockets all the letters and littlechickle-fixings you intend to carry away with you. You won't be goingback into that cell again, Number Two-Seven-Nine. " CHAPTER XXIII NO VOICE FROM THE PIT It was a night of wakefulness and of tremors for Vaniman. His was theacute expectancy of one who was about to set out on strange adventures, but whose orders were sealed and whose destination was unknown. Wagg'sstolid appearance of knowing just what he was about had been a steadyingaid in helping the young man control his doubts; in issuing his final, curt commands Wagg did not abate his confidence; Vaniman felt that hewas in no position to demand more candor. He forced himself to eat his breakfast when it was pushed under his celldoor. The messes that were daily dabbed into the compartments of the tintray were never appetizing; that morning his emotions made everythingas tasteless as sawdust. But he ate for strength's sake; he did not knowwhat form of endurance would be demanded of him. He put only a few of his letters into his pocket. Cells were inspectedevery day after the convicts went forth to their toil. He did notdare to excite suspicion by taking away any noticeable amount of hispossessions. The forenoon work went on as usual. And Mr. Wagg gave no signs that thiswas the day of days according to his plans. He constantly warned theconvicts not to meddle with any of the wires. He was even peremptorilyshort with a deputy warden who came poking around. The warden asked ifthere was any danger. "There's always danger when a hill is full of wired-up, canned thunder, "stated Mr. Wagg. "I maintain, as I always have maintained, that it'snotional stuff. You'll kindly remember that I told you so. " The warden departed with an air that revealed how much he had beenimpressed. With the crisis so near, irritability pricked Vaniman's state of nervoustension. He began to resent Wagg's contemptuous silence in regard todetails. That the guard's plans were concerned in some way with themined hillock was evident enough. But an explosion which merely wouldcreate a diversion to assist in an escape was not a device that wouldeffectively solve his difficulties, Vaniman reflected. Wagg's generalstolidity made him seem rather stupid; the young man felt that his ownwits ought to be enlisted in the affair. In the stress of circumstanceshe hankered to co-operate instead of being a sort of Ludlam's dog, dumband driven. However, toward noon, Mr. Wagg was displaying a certain amount oftension of his own and his demeanor did not invite complaints orrecrimination. The convict decided that there was nothing for it exceptto let Mr. Wagg do the wagging. When the noon bell clanged from the tower, the pit-job prisonersfiltered into groups from their occupation in the yard and others filedfrom the doors of the shops. They shuffled their way in double linesthrough the gaping door of the main building, received their tins offood, and went to their cells. As usual, Vaniman remained with Wagg. The warders on the walls relaxed their vigilance when the heavy door wasclosed behind the last men of the lines. The guards went into the sentryboxes and set down the heavy rifles. Wagg made a general survey of the scene. No person was moving in theopen area of the yard. The veteran of the guard was well acquainted withthe customary habits and movements of the noon hour. He knew that themen in the main guardroom were reduced to a shift of two while theothers went to their dinners; the two men were in the habit of givingthe deserted yard only indifferent attention. But Mr. Wagg had providedagainst even casual glances. For purposes of his own, which a boss did not need to explain, he hadnailed boards together to form something like a door, six feet square. The thing had been leaning against the dynamite shed for some days. Quite casually, Mr. Wagg went and lifted away this square of boarding, holding to the traverse braces on which the boards were nailed. Hetrudged along, carrying it, and came to where Vaniman was standing, observing and wondering. "Scooch!" snapped Wagg. "Walk along. Don't show yourself past thisshield!" It was a true shield. Wagg carried it straight up and down. Vanimanobeyed instantly. He had a mental flash that Wagg did know exactly whathe was about in his tactics. Lacking all idea of the scheme, Vanimanhad not the heart to begin to ask for any details of the big plan at thecrucial moment. He allowed himself to be an automaton. It was easy to doone thing at a time, as Wagg commanded; knowing nothing about what Waggintended to do. Vaniman was not in a position to delay matters bydoubts as to the best way of doing the thing. He walked behind the boardscreen, conscious that his movements were hidden from the men in theguardroom and, for that matter, from the eyes of anybody in the prisonbuilding. After a walk of a few rods Vaniman found himself close to a big chimney;it served a shop which had been unused since the crew had been at workon the job of filling the pit. Wagg set down the shield on its edge, asif needing to rest for a moment. "Open that chimney door and dodge in. Pull the door to behind you. " At the base of the chimney Vaniman beheld the iron door provided forthe convenience of cleaners and repair men. The padlock of the door wasunhooked. He lifted the door from its latch, crawled into the chimney, and pulled the door shut. A moment later, waiting in the stiflingdarkness, he heard the rattle of metal against metal and the snap of thepadlock. There was the tramp of departing feet. Gradually he becameable to see about him in some degree. Away up above him was a square ofsunlit sky at the top of the shaft. He saw in one corner a large pailwith a cover; inside it were several bottles. Also, there was a bundleof clothing. Judging from the amount of food, it was rather evident that Mr. Waggexpected prison-bird Two-Seven-Nine to play chimney swallow for somelittle time! Wagg had made a quick job of locking in Vaniman. The guard tipped theupper edge of the shield inward till it rested against the chimney. Hereached around the end of the boarding and snapped the padlock. Then helifted his burden and went on. About that time a lazy man in the guardroom rolled slow gaze upon theyard. He saw Wagg moving with the burden and watched until Wagg laid itdown flat on the ground. He opined that it was a part of thebomb-proof shelter that Wagg proposed to build in order to watch thehillock-smashing at close range. The other guard confirmed that opinion, having information straight from Wagg, himself. "When does she bust?" "Next week, so he cal'lates!" But Mr. Wagg, returning slowly, keeping to the side of the pit farthestfrom the hillock, was at that moment down to seconds in his figuringhow long it would be before the crawling fire on a fuse would reach andsever a cord and trip a certain trigger. "I reckon she's about due, " muttered Mr. Wagg. He stopped without easyjumping distance of the corner of a shop and slowly lighted his pipe asan excuse for stopping. His reckoning was correct. The hillock heaved. The mining had been skillfully done; the mass ofrocks and earth was hoisted from behind and slid toward the pit. Therewas a tremor of the ground under the prison and its yard as if Thorhad thunked viciously with his heaviest hammer. When startled men shotglances from the windows that were handiest for observation, the hillwas toppling into the pit. In the forefront was the dynamite shed, splintering under the tons of moving rock. Instantly the last sliverof the shed was swallowed up, and then other tons of dirt and rock wentpiling into the pit, burying the shattered structure in crashing depthsfrom which lime-rock dust came puffing in clouds. On the edge of the pit a man was dancing wildly in an aura of dust. The man was Wagg. He came staggering away from the pit, his arms foldedacross his eyes. "I saw him!" he squalled, when officers met him in their race across theyard from the prison. "He was in the shed. I told him to keep away fromthem wires. I've been telling everybody to keep off'n them wires. Buteverybody has been bound and determined to fool with 'em. " He pulleddown his arms and shot accusatory digit at the deputy warden whom he hadpreviously rebuked. "Only this day I had to warn you not to fool withthem wires. He must have done it. I saw him go under. It's Gawd-awful. I'll never forget it--how he looked. Gimme water!" He sucked from the edge of the tin dipper which a man brought, sufflinglike a thirsty horse. He rolled up his eyes and surveyed the warden, whohad arrived. "Number Two-Seven-Nine--you say he has gone?" The warden's countenanceregistered honest horror; but Mr. Wagg's simulated horror was even moreconvincing in its intensity. "He's gone! He's under the whole of it!" Wagg dropped the dipper andcollapsed on the ground. "My nerve is all busted, Warden. I sha'n't everhave any more grit to be a guard. I ask to be discharged. Here and now Ibeg to be fired!" "I'll arrange a furlough for you, Wagg, " said the warden, withunderstanding sympathy. "You're entitled to a lay-off with pay. It was aterrible thing to see!" "And his mother!" mourned the guard. "Break it to her easy!" "A dreadful--dreadful affair, " insisted the warden. He started toward the edge of the pit. "And the prison commissioners, the way state finances are, will never go to the expense of having allthat rock moved to dig him out. " "Probably not, seeing that he's under the whole of it, " agreed Wagg. "He was a likable chap, spite of what he had done to get in here. PoorTwo-Seven-Nine!" One of the inside guards had arrived at the scene of mourning. He wasgreatly excited. "And I guess it's poor Two-Eight-Two! He's missing fromthe noon count-up, Mr. Warden!" Wagg struggled upon his feet. He was not simulating the new phase ofhis emotions. He looked distinctly frightened. "There's only one underthere. I saw him go. Who is Two-Eight-Two?" "One of the pair sent down from Levant for breaking and entering in thenighttime. " "He wasn't in my crew--he wasn't on outdoor work, " shouted Wagg. "What was his job?" demanded the warden. "Harness shop, " reported an officer. He called to another guard andstarted into the building indicated. All those in the yard waited anxiously, their eyes on the door wherethe guards had entered. Promptly the officers came out. One propelleda convict, clutching the collar of the dingy prison coat; the othercarried a length of narrow ladder that was fashioned from strips ofleather. "I reckon he hid out to work on this, " said the guard. "Didn't you know that you couldn't get away with anything of that sort?"the warden demanded, angrily. The convict looked past the warden, straight into the eyes of Wagg. "You never can tell what you can get away with till you try it, "Two-Eight-Two declared. There was a touch of insolence in his manner. "Into the doghole with him!" the warden commanded. Wagg surveyed the departure of the convict. The man contrived to twisthis head around and look behind him; and he disclosed a grin. But he washampered by the clutch on his collar and Wagg was not sure that the grinwas intended for him, though the consciousness that the convict mighthave beheld what was on the inner side of that shield of boards was athought which troubled Mr. Wagg's complacent belief that a good job hadbeen well done. He continued to watch the man until the narrow door which opened fromthe yard, admitting to the doghole cells, swallowed up the convict andhis guard. All that time a sort of quivery feeling was inside Wagg. Heactually found himself in frantic mental search of some kind of a lie tobe used in case the convict whirled and pointed to the big chimney andgot over an accusation. But the man did not look around again. "I can plainly see that you are in a bad way, Wagg, " affirmed thewarden. Fervently did Mr. Wagg agree in his heart. "Your leave ofabsence dates from this moment, if you say so. " "I may have to go on to stone work again if I don't get back my grit, warden. I'd like to have the run of the yard for a day or so, in orderto look over just how that blast worked. Seeing that it cost a humanlife, I'd like to get full value of experience out of it. " "Come and go as you like, Wagg. I'll lend you a key to the small doorbeside the wagon entrance in case you don't want to ring in through theguardroom. " Mr. Wagg expressed his gratitude in proper terms and allowed that hewould go and lie down for a time in order to calm himself. Again heurged the warden to break the news gently to Vaniman's mother andrespectfully requested that Guard Wagg's sympathy be included in thecondolence in the official letter. The newspapers of that afternoon contained an account of the tragichappening at the state prison. That night, too, Vona Harnden kept vigil, her door locked against hermother, whose fatuous commonplaces of commiseration were like filesagainst the raw surface of the girl's agony. The front parlor of the Harndens had been converted into a sleeping roomfor Tasper Britt. Vona's room was over the parlor. She could hear therasping diapason of his snoring. He appeared to be sleeping with thecalm relaxation of a man who had been able to eliminate some especialworries from his mind. Furthermore, that night, the chairman of the prison commissioners had atalk with the warden over the telephone. The warden made a guess asto how many thousands of tons of rock were piled above the body of theunfortunate victim. "The taxpayers will never indorse the project of digging out that pitto recover the body of a convict, no matter who he is, " declared thecommissioner. "I don't mean to sound brutal, but we must let it standas it is. Enter the reports of witnesses and declare the man officiallydead. Here is one case, at least, Mr. Warden, when there's no doubtabout a man being dead. " However, shortly after twelve o'clock that night--and the night beingparticularly black with an overcast sky--Bartley Wagg opened the irondoor of the big chimney and called forth Frank Vaniman and led him outthrough the little door at the side of the carriage entrance. There was a conveyance waiting there, a good-sized van, drawn by asolid-looking horse. Mr. Wagg lifted the flap of the van's cover. "Crawl in!" he commanded. "You'll find plenty of room along with therest of the camping kit. Roll yourself up in the tent and take it easy. My nerves have been shocked by the terrible affair and I'm going intothe mountains to recuperate. Doctor's orders!" He was grimly serious. He mounted the seat of the van and drove away with his passenger and theoutfit. CHAPTER XXIV THE SHADE WHO STALLED Mr. Wagg did not hurry. He used several days for his trip to Egypt. He drove leisurely along roads which led through small towns andout-of-the-way places. That plan afforded him opportunity and excuse forpitching a tent to serve as shelter during the night stops. And afterthe tent was pitched and the dusk descended, Vaniman was able to comethankfully from the hateful restraint of the van and stroll along thewoodland aisles and get the kinks out of his anatomy. But, although he eased his body, he was unable to ease his mind. He hadnot expected to enjoy his questionable freedom, anyway. Liberty was ofvalue to him only as he might be able to use it in his fight for hisrights as an innocent man. He could not freely use his liberty until hehad cleared his name and thereby justified his escape from the prison. Now he was wondering whether he would have allowed Wagg to proceed ashe did had the guard apprised him of the full details of the plan. Thesweat of anguish stood out on him as he pondered in the jolting van; hefound no pleasure in the respite of the peaceful woods. By the plot of Wagg he had dealt his loved ones the cruel blow thatsudden death inflicts on the affections. In spite of what he hoped togain from his freedom, Vaniman was accusing himself, realizing what hismother, his sister, and Vona were suffering. It was his nature to drawfine distinctions in points of honor; he was ashamed in the presence ofWagg; and in the consideration of the interests of self, he felt thathis liberty was exacting too great a price from others. To all intentsand purposes, outside the knowledge of one man to the contrary, he wasdead, and he had deprived his best beloved of hope and peace of mind. The one man in the secret profanely declared that if Vaniman madean attempt to communicate with any person in the world until theirparticular business had been settled, the whole project was in danger. "I don't care how much dependence you put in your mother's good sense. She's a woman, and women slop over when they're all wowed up! She'd haveto tell your sister, wouldn't she? She couldn't let your sister goon suffering. And your sister's too young to be trusted. Vaniman, thetoughest part is over for 'em. That's a cinch! They'll go on sorrowing, of course, but they'll be feeling more reconciled every day. Mournersalways do. Mourners can't help seeing the bright side, after a time. Think of that and quit your foolishness. You have made a trade with me. Till your part of that trade is carried out you ain't a free agent to dowhat you want to do in your own affairs. " The worry over his inability to carry out that trade was mingled withthe young man's general bitterness of regret because he had challengedFate so boldly. "There's one thing about it, " Mr. Wagg pursued, "the quicker you comeacross with me the sooner you can do what you darnation want to on yourown hook. I have worked a thing that could be worked only once. You'reout--and you're out right. Nobody is chasing you. Take another name, show up in some other part of the country, and you'll live happy everafter. " He dwelt on that theme whenever the two talked, and he played all thevariations. Furthermore, he complained because Vaniman was not showinghis gratitude in more hearty fashion. "I catch you looking at me likea youngster would look at a bumblebee crawling across his bare foot. I don't ask to be taken into your bosom as your main and particularchum--understand that! But while there's business on between us I expectpleasant looks, even if you don't feel like handing me conversation. " Mr. Wagg was doing practically all the talking on that trip. He hademerged from his cocoon of taciturnity. He explained that naturally hewas a great talker, but that prison rules had pretty nigh paralyzed histongue and he was trying to get it back into good working order oncemore. He made an especial point of vaunting himself upon the success of hisscheme of deliverance. He tackled the thing from all angles. He playedit up as the greatest achievement that ever had been worked in behalf ofa convict. Mr. Wagg, serving as board of appraisal of his own feat, keptboosting the value. It was evident that he was suspecting that Vaniman, out and free, was in the mood that is characteristic of the common runof humanity: urgent desire is reckless about price; possession proceedsto haggle and demur. "And there's one thing about it, " insisted Wagg, "we've got to keep ongoing ahead. We can't back up. We can't dissolve partnership. And thetrade has got to stand as it was made--fifty-fifty. " "I'm not going back on the trade. " They were sitting close to each other on a tussock behind their littletent. Mr. Wagg leaned close and bored Vaniman with earnest gaze. "We'llfetch Egypt on to-morrow's hitch. Of course, you're going to stick closeto me, and you can bet that I'm going to stick close to you till thewhack-up has been made. No shenanigan! Now, seeing how far I havegone in doing my part, don't you think it's about time for you to comeacross?" Vaniman spread his hands. "How can I? Wait till we get to Egypt. " Rightthen he had no notion of what he was going to do when he arrived inEgypt. He had not dared to look the proposition squarely in the face. He did not even analyze his feelings. He was dimly conscious that hewas pitying Wagg. That ambitious person was in for a grievousdisappointment. To be sure, Wagg had insisted on following a currentbelief and persisted in building his hopes on a fallacy and had forcedhuman nature until weak human nature had snapped under the strain. Wagghad refused to believe the truth; he had preferred to indulge hisown delusion in regard to the treasure of the Egypt Trust company. Nevertheless, Vaniman was ashamed--and he was afraid. Britt was the crux of the situation--that was evident enough! Brittknew where the coin was. Vaniman was sure on that point. Britt had somaneuvered that wild-goose errand to Levant that he had made the affairfurnish opportunity to himself and fix the odium on Vaniman. In spite ofwhat the young man knew of Britt's lust for money, he believed that theusurer had worked a scheme to ruin a rival instead of merely operatingto add to his riches. But Vaniman knew Britt well enough to reach theconclusion that, once having the hard cash in his possession, and theblame fastened on another man, Britt was allowing avarice to stand paton the play. But if, now being on the job in person, he could rig a scheme to makeBritt disclose, what could be done for coadjutor Wagg? There was areward posted for information leading to the recovery of the money. Britt had offered that reward. He had made quite a show of the thingin the public prints. He pledged himself to pay the sum of two thousandfive hundred dollars from his own pocket, and Vaniman bitterly realizedjust why Britt had adopted that pose. Would Wagg be content with the sopof the reward? The man who had been declared dead knew that he must play for time. Heran over various plans in his head. He did not feel like blurting outthe truth to Mr. Wagg and asking what that effectually compromisedgentleman was going to do about it. He needed Mr. Wagg. He thought ofpleading that the summer landscape was so much different from the winterlay of the land, when the snow was heaped in the gullies and on thehills, that he was bothered in remembering just where he had planted thetreasure that night; he reflected that he might show Mr. Wagg a hole inthe rocks and assert that some of the persistent Egyptian gold huntershad undoubtedly located the money and taken it for themselves; beingmoved to more desperate projects, he meditated on the plan of comingacross to Wagg with the whole story, showing him that Britt must beguilty, and thereby turning a blackmailer loose on the magnate withplenty of material to use in extorting what Wagg might consider fair payfor the work he had put in. But Vaniman was freshly free from prison walls. Just then he waspsychologically incapable of standing up for himself as a real manought. His sense of innocence had not been able to withstand thatfeeling of intimidation with which a prisoner becomes obsessed. Rightalong with him was the man who had been persistently his guard in theprison. Wagg's narrow rut of occupation had had its full effect on hisnature. His striated eyeballs had a vitreous look; they were as hard asmarbles. Vaniman knew that he could not look at those eyes and tell aconvincing lie. In view of Wagg's settled convictions in the matter ofthe treasure, the real truth might be harder to support than a lie. Vaniman went into the van like a whipped dog into a kennel and lay awakeand wrestled with his difficulties. During the progress of the pilgrimage the next day Wagg haltedfrequently. Vaniman could hear the conversations between his charioteerand the natives of the section. Mr. Wagg was seeking information and atthe same time he gave out a modest amount of revelation about himselfand his need of a retired spot where he might recuperate. He explainedthat he wanted to find a camp in some place so remote that nobody wouldbe coming around jarring his nerves. Eventually he got on track of what he wanted. A native told him about anabandoned log house on the top of a mountain called "Devilbrow. " "They used it for a fire-warden station in the days when Egypt hadenough timber to make it an object to protect it, " said the man. "You'llbe plenty lonesome up there. You can get your wagon within half a mile. Pack your truck on your hoss's back and lead him the rest of the way. That's what I used to do. I was warden till I found myself trying tocarry on conversations with tumblebugs and whippoorwills. " When Wagg had driven along far enough so that the native could notoverhear, he hailed Vaniman through the trap in the top of the van. "Did you hear that?" "Yes. " "Is that Devilbrow within grabbing distance of what we're after?" Vaniman returned a hearty affirmative. He had been able to see thosecraggy heights from his window in Britt Block. The thought that what hewanted to grab and what Mr. Wagg wanted to grab were not exactly matedas desired objects did not shade his candor when he asserted thatDevilbrow was just the place from which to operate. "All right!" chirruped Wagg. "Us for it!" He displayed the firstcheeriness he had shown on the trip. He whistled for a time. Then hesang, over and over, to a tune of his own, "Up above the world so high, like a di'mond in the sky. " This display of Wagg's hopeful belief thatthe fifty-fifty settlement was near at hand served to increase Vaniman'sdespondency. Obeying the native's instructions as to the route, Wagg soon turned offthe highway and drove along a rutted lane which whiplashed a slope thatcontinually became steeper. Soon he pulled up and told Vaniman to getout and walk and ease the load on the horse. Wagg got down and walked, too. The trail up Devilbrow was on the side away from the village of Egypt. The way was through hard growth. There were no houses--no sign of ahuman being. Wagg's cheerfulness increased. And he said something whichput a glimmer of cheer into Vaniman's dark ponderings. "There's no call to hurry the thing overmuch. If I recuperate too suddenand show up back home it might look funny, after the way I bellowedabout my condition. There's plenty of flour, bacon, and canned stuff inthat van. I reckon we'd better get our feet well settled here and makesure that nobody is watching us; the money is safer in the hole thanwith us, for the time being. My pay is going on and the future looksrosy. " A cock partridge rose from the side of the lane and whirred away throughthe beech leaves that the first frost of early autumn had yellowed. "And I've got a shotgun and plenty of shells! Son, let's forget thatwe have ever been in state prison. In the course of time that place isabout as wearing on a guard as it is on a convict. " The log camp was behind a spur of the rocky summit and was hidden fromthe village below. Wagg commented with satisfaction on the location whenthey had reached the place. The van had been concealed in a ravinewhich led from the lane. The work of loading the horse with the sackedsupplies, and the ascent of the mountain, had consumed hours. Twilightwas sifting into the valleys by the time they had unloaded the stuff andstabled the horse in a lean-to. There was a stove in the camp, and the place was furnished after afashion with chairs and a table fashioned from birch saplings. Theblankets of Wagg's camp equipment made the bunks comfortable. Wagg had been the cook as well as the captain of the expedition. He didbetter that evening with the wood-burning stove than he had done withthe oil stove of his kit. After supper, before he turned in, Vaniman went out on a spur ofDevilbrow and gazed down on the scattered lights of the village ofEgypt. As best he could he determined the location of the Harnden house. He felt as helplessly aloof as if he were a shade revisiting the sceneof his mortal experiences. CHAPTER XXV THE FIRST PEEP BEHIND THE CURTAIN The next day Wagg went out and shot two partridges and contrived a stewwhich fully occupied his attention in the making and the eating. He hadsuggested to Vaniman that he'd better come along on the expeditionafter the birds. Vaniman found a bit more than mere suggestion inWagg's manner of invitation. With his shotgun in the hook of his armhe presented his wonted appearance as the guard at the prison. Itwas perfectly apparent that Mr. Wagg proposed to keep his eye on thepromiser of the fifty-fifty split. But Wagg did not refer to the matterof the money while they strolled in the woods. As a matter of fact, days went by without the question coming up. Wagg had previously praised himself as a patient waiter; the young manconfessed in his thoughts that his guardian merited the commendation. Wagg was plainly having a particularly good time on this outing. Hedisplayed the contentment of a man who had ceased to worry about thefuture; he was taking it easy, like a vacationer with plenty of moneyin the bank. On one occasion he did mention the money in the course of abit of philosophizing on the situation: "I suppose that, when you look at it straight, it's stealing, what I'mdoing. I've seen a lot of big gents pass through that state prison, serving sentences for stealing. Embezzlement, forgery, crooked stockdealing--it's all stealing. They were tempted. I've been tempted. I'vefell. I ain't an angel, any more than those big gents were. And youknow what I told you about mourners chirking up, after the first blow!I figure it's the same way in the bank case. They have given up the ideaof getting the money back. They're still sad when they think about it, but they keep thinking less and less every day. They've crossed it off, as you might say. " The two who were bound in that peculiar comradeship were out on thecrag where they could look down upon the distant checker board of thevillage. Vaniman, in the stress of the circumstances, wondered whetherhe might be able to come at Wagg on the sentimental side of his nature. "The little town must have gone completely broke since the bank failure. Innocent people are suffering. If that money could be returned--" He did not finish the sentence. Mr. Wagg was most distinctly notencouraging that line of talk. "Look here, Vaniman, when you got away with that money you had hardenedyourself up to the point where you were thinking of your own self first, hadn't you?" The young man did not dare to burst out with the truth--not while Waggwas in the mood his expression hinted at. Wagg continued: "Well, I've got myself to the point where I'm thinkingof my own self. I'm as hard as this rock I'm sitting on. " In hisemphasis on that assertion Wagg scarred his knuckles against the ledge. "After all the work I've had in getting myself to that point, I'mproposing to stay there. If you try to soften me I shall consider thatyou're welching on your trade. " Wagg made the declaration in loud tones. After all his years ofsoft-shoeing and repression in a prison, the veteran guard was takingfull advantage of the wide expanses of the big outdoors. "What did I do for you, Vaniman? I let you cash in on a play that I hadplanned ever since the first barrow of dirt was dumped into that pit. There's a lifer in that prison with rich relatives. I reckon theywould have come across with at least ten thousand dollars. There's amanslaughter chap who owns four big apartment houses. But I picked youbecause I could sympathize with you on account of your mother and thatgirl the papers said so much about. It's a job that can't be doneover again, not even for the Apostle Peter. Now will you even hint atwelching?" "Certainly not!" But that affirmation did not come from Vaniman. It was made in hisbehalf by a duet of voices, bass and nasal tenor, speaking loudly andconfidently behind the two men who were sitting on the ledge. The younger man leaped to his feet and whirled; the older man struggledpartly upright and ground his knees on the ledge when he turned toinspect the terrifying source of sound. So far as Vaniman's recollection went, they were strangers. One wasshort and dumpy, the other was tall and thin. They wore slouchy, wrinkled, cheap suits. There was no hint of threat in their faces. Onthe contrary, both of the men displayed expressions of mingled triumphand mischief. Then, as if they had a mutual understanding in the matterof procedure, they went through a sort of drill. They stuck their rightarms straight out; they crooked the arms at the elbows; they drovetheir hands at their hip pockets and produced, each of them, a bulldogrevolver; they snapped their arms into position of quick aim. Wagg threw up his hands and began to beg. Vaniman held himself underbetter control. But the men did not shoot. They returned the guns to their pockets andsaluted in military fashion, whacking their palms violently againsttheir thighs in finishing salute. "Present!" they cried. Then the dumpy man grinned. Wagg had beengoggling, trying to resolve his wild incredulity into certainty. Thatgrin settled the thing for him. It was the same sort of a suggestivegrin that he had viewed on that day of days in the prison yard. "Number Two-Eight-Two!" he quavered. "Sure thing!" The dumpy man patted the tall man's arm. "Add one, andyou have Number Two-Eight-Three--a pal who drew the next number becausewe're always in company. " "And we're here because we're here, " stated the other. The short man fixed his gaze on the ex-cashier. "You don't realize ityet, but this is more of a reunion than it looks to be on the surface. You two gents have seen how we're fixed in the gun line, and we hope theunderstanding is going to make the party sociable. " "You may be thinking that this is only another case of it being provedhow small the world is, after all, " remarked the tall man. "Not so! Notso! We have followed you two because we have important business withyou. We have had a lot of trouble and effort in getting here. Bear thatin mind, please!" The new arrivals were quite matter-of-fact and Wagg was helpedto recover some of his composure. "The two of you are three-yearmen--robbery in the nighttime, " he declared, out of his officialknowledge. "What in blue blazes are you doing outside the pen?" "Attending to the same business as you are--after a slice of the bankcoin, " replied the short man, carelessly. Wagg got to his feet and banged his fists together. "Do you dare to walkright up to a guard of the state prison and--and--" He balked in hisdemand for information; Mr. Wagg was plainly afflicted with a fewuncomfortable considerations of his own situation. "We do!" the convicts declared in concert. Then the dumpy man went on:"And whatever else it is you're wondering whether we dare to do, we'llinform that we dare. Once on a time we had occasion to express ouropinion of a bank. I wrote out that opinion and left it where it wouldbe seen. Not exactly Sunday-school language, but it hit the case. " Heturned away from Vaniman's frenzy of gasping interrogation. He confinedhis attention to Wagg. "A prison guard, say you? You're a hell of aguard!" "Opinion indorsed!" said the other convict. For a few moments there was complete silence on the summit of Devilbrow. Somewhere, on an upland farm in the distance, a cow mooed. Then arooster challenged all comers. "That's the word, old top!" agreed the tall man. "It expresses myfeelings, " He clapped his hands against his legs and cried in histenor, imitating the singsong of the rooster, "We're here because we'rehe-e-ere!" Then he and his fellow sat down on a ledge outcropping that overtoppedand commanded the position of the other men. The convicts surveyedVaniman and Wagg with a complacent air of triumph. "Are you willing totake things as they stand, or do you feel that you can't go ahead tillyour curiosity has been scratched?" inquired the short man. "Curiosity!" stormed the ex-cashier. "Do you dare to call the feeling Ihave in me curiosity?" He thumped his fist against his breast. "And how about my feelings, with escaped convicts racing and chasing allover this country?" shouted the guard. "What has happened to that prisonsince I've been off my job?" "One at a time!" The dumpy man put up his hand to shut off the stream ofquestions that were pouring from Wagg. "The young fellow has his inningsfirst. He has more good reasons for rearing and tearing. It's easyenough to get out of a state prison when you have a trick that can beworked once. " He winked at Wagg. Then he directed his remarks strictlyat Vaniman. "I'm going to talk free and open. We're all in the same boat. We're acouple of pots, and both of you are kettles, all black. Now, listen! I'mBill. " He stuck his finger against his breast and then tagged withit his pal at his side. "He's Tom. Bill and Tom have been humble andhard-working yeggmen, never tackling anything bigger than country storesand farmers' flivvers. Once on a time they were in a barn, tuckedaway waiting for night, and they heard a man running a double shift oftalk--beating down the farmer on the price of cattle and blowing offabout gold coin hoarded by the bushel in a rube bank. " Stickney's unruly mouth! Vaniman understood. "So, says Bill to Tom:'Why not go up like everything else is going up these days?' Says Tom toBill: 'I'm on. ' We took our time about it, getting the lay of the land. We went down to the big burg to buy drills and soup and pick up pointson how to crack a real nut. Equipment up to that time had been a glasscutter and a jimmy for back windows and padlocks. " He was humorously drawling his confession. He stopped talking andlighted a cigarette. Impatience that was agony urged Vaniman, but hecontrolled himself. Wagg did not venture to say anything. His thoughtswere keeping him busy; he was mentally galloping, trying to catch upwith the new situation. "And let me tell you that when Bill and Tom got back up here, they hadcolder feet than the weather accounted for. General headquarters, thatcamp!" He jerked thumb gesture toward the log cabin. "It had been ourhang-out in times past when we operated in this section. Handy place!Finally got up courage enough to go to the job. Fine night for it!Deserted village. Peeked into Town Hall and saw the general round-up. Light in the bank. Bill was boosted up by Tom and got a peek over thecurtain. One fellow inside adding figures--much taken up. Bank-vaultdoor wide open. Front door unlocked. Crawled in. Kept crawling. Crawledinto bank room. Grille door wide open. Bill up and hit fellow withrubber nob-knocker--it snuffs, but is not dangerous. Tom is handy bywith the chloroform--always carried it for our second-story work. " The young man began to stride to and fro, striving by using his legs tokeep from using his tongue. The narrator snapped the ash off his cigarette. "Bill and Tom looked ateach other. Did they expect such easy picking? They did not. The stuffhad been fairly handed to 'em. They dragged the stuff out--all the sacksof it. Transportation all planned on. Couple of handsleds such as we hadseen leaning up against the houses in the village. Slipped the fellowinto the vault with his hands tied and shut the door with a trig so thathe couldn't kick it open right away. Idea was that anybody stepping inlater would think he had gone home; we intended to put out the light;nothing desperate about us; we wouldn't shoot the bolts. Bill said toTom that there'd be a hunt for the fellow when he failed to show up athome, wherever he lived, and he'd sure be pulled out of the vault ingood season. Thoughtful, you see! Not bloody villains. Simply wantedtime for our getaway. Slow pulling up this hill with handsleds! Butwe slit a bag to make sure of what we would be pulling. And we kept onslitting bags. And--" the short man shook his head and sighed. "Yousay it, Tom. I'm trying to be sociable in this talk with thesegents--showing a full and free spirit in coming across with the facts. But I don't trust myself!" "Nor I!" declared Tom. "We'd better not spoil a pleasant party. " "Well, Bill wrote his sentiments, as they occurred to him at the time. Then we heard somebody hollering at the front door that we had leftopen. We ran and jumped behind the door of the bank office. The fellowwho galloped in ran a few times in circles and then he galloped out. Hemight have noticed a rhinoceros if the rhino had risen up and bit him. But he paid no attention to Bill and Tom behind the door. And Bill andTom walked out. And we managed to get clear of the village just as thatTown Hall crowd broke loose. "Says Bill to Tom, when they were on their way: 'It's plain that banksare bunk, like everything else these days. Let's stick to our humbleline where we know what we're doing. ' But, having been studying bankrobbing, we had got ourselves nerved up to take desperate chances--andwe bulled the regular game in Levant. Coarse work, because we were offour stride. All due to the bank. The bank stands liable for damages. We're up here collecting. Cashier, consider what regular and desperatecracksmen would have done to you! Considering our carefulness where youwere concerned, and the trouble we have been put to in getting out andchasing you, what say?" Again Vaniman got a strong grip on his emotions. He was a fugitive;these cheeky rascals had his fate in their hands; he was not in aposition to reply to their effrontery as his wild desire urged. He didnot dare to open his mouth just then with any sort of reply; he did nottrust himself even to look their way. "Think it over, " advised the short man, composedly. "But please takenote that there are now four of us in on the split, and that quarteringit makes easy figuring. " Mr. Wagg was not composed. This threat to disrupt his fifty-fifty planbrought him out of something that was like stupor. "You belong back instate prison, and I'll see to it that you're put there. " The man who called himself Bill was not ruffled. He waved his arm toindicate the spread of the landscape. "Doesn't being up here above theworld lift you out of the rut of petty revenge? Can't you see things ina broader way? I can. I feel like praising you for that job you put upto get our valuable friend out where he can help all four of us. Formany a day, after I saw that you had this friend out in the yard andwere interested in him, I tended less to making harness pads and more towatching you through the shop window. I was interested in the gent, too. Tom and I had made up our minds to be as patient as possible for sevenyears--and then be rusticating up in these hills, right on hand to helphim in the chore of digging it out of whatever hole it's hidden in. Couldn't let you monopolize him--absolutely not, Mr. Guard! Do you thinkI was hiding out that noon only by luck and chance? No, no! I sawyou monkeying with the chimney door that forenoon. I saw how you werehopping around and I got a good look at your face. Says I to myself, Tomnot being handy, 'There's something to be pulled off, and I'll make surehow it is pulled. ' That's how I happened to be on the business side ofthat shield, Mr. Guard. It was good work. It leaves our friend prettycomfortable, so far as the dicks are concerned. Tom and I have got tokeep dodging 'em. We didn't have your advantages, you know--Tom and Ididn't! We simply did the best we could in getting out--realizing thevalue of time. " The short man was employing a patronizing tone, as if accomplishing anescape from state prison was merely a matter of election of methods. Allof the guard's official pride was in arms. He advanced on the convictand shook a finger under his nose. "How did you get out? You don't dareto tell me. It was an accident. You didn't use any brains. You don'tdare to tell, I say!" "Oh yes, I do!" The convict was placid. "I'll tell you because you'llnever dare to open your mouth on the matter. Furthermore, you've got tounderstand the position Tom and I are in right now in regard to a thirdparty. That party is a trusty--he gets out in three months from now andhas been having the run of the corridors as a repair man. " Wagg growled something. "Oh yes, he will!" asseverated the convict. "He'll come out on time!A fine show of yourself you'll make trying to dutch him. The pen ismightier than the sword, but inside a prison pen the little screw driverhas 'em all faded when a trusty is the repair man. Cell door, tierdoor, attic door--all attended to; ventilator grating likewise. Rope inventilator, up rope--out goes rope and down rope! Roof, wall, drop! Rearwindow of second-hand shop. Outfit! Hike! Good start, till morning showsthe cot dummies! Truss rods of Wagner freight, blind baggage to Levanton the 'tween-days train. Into the bush--and here!" "With this added by me, " put in the other convict. "That trusty was apal in the old days. He understands his friends' financial interestis in this thing, and how we needed to get out sudden to tend to thatinterest. We have given him our word. He took that word like it was acertified check. And he's going to cash in on that word!" "He sure is!" declared the short man. "We pass words instead of checksin our business, and a man who lets his promise go to protest is crabbedfor keeps. We have incurred obligations so as to get in at the split. "He spread out his palm and tapped a digit into the center of it. "Cash--here!" "Strictly on a business basis, of course, " said the tall man. "We don'tcall for a special split for that trusty. It's a personal debt incurredby Bill and me. We ask nobody to pay our personal debts. All we ask isthat debts due us be paid. And we're drawing a sight draft on you gents. Bill and I are probably only a few jumps ahead of the dicks. Where's thecoin?" He brutally thrust the question at Vaniman. The young man turned toWagg, seeking support in that crisis, believing that the affair couldbe held on the basis of two against two in the interests of furtherdilatory tactics. Wagg had been showing indignant protest againstthe demands of the interlopers. But his corrugated face was smoothedsuddenly. He had evidently decided to cash in on the new basis. "That'swhat I want to know--and what I have been trying to find out. Where'sthe coin?" The realignment--three against one--was menacing. Vaniman surveyed thefaces--the glowering demanding countenances, the eyes in which moneylust gleamed. He knew that the men were in a mood where the truth wouldserve him in sad stead. He had no knack as a liar. He understood howlittle chance he had of convincing those shrewd knaves by his ineptfalsehoods in that extremity. He had already meditated on the plan ofrunning away from Wagg. His reasons for escaping from this intolerablebaiting were now threefold. "It's too near sunset for a job that will take us a long way through thewoods, " he blurted. "I'll admit I'm so tired I can't count money till I've had a night'ssleep, " confessed the short man. "But you make your promise now andhere, Mr. Cashier. When?" He emphasized the last word. "To-morrow!" "A promissory note--dated and delivered. Don't let it go to protest. That's language you can understand, Mr. Bankman. " Vaniman walked off toward the cabin and the three men followed him. CHAPTER XXVI THE SHOW-DOWN His troubles and his trials had not wholly dulled youth's sense of theludicrous in Vaniman. He sat down that evening to the meal that had beenprepared by Guard Wagg, late of the state prison, for three fugitiveconvicts, also late of that institution. The chimney of the kerosenelamp was smoky and the light was dim, therefore Vaniman's grin washidden from his companions. Undoubtedly it would have produced noespecial wonderment in them if they had noted his cheerful visage. Theywere decidedly cheerful, themselves. Mr. Wagg was no longer exhibitingthe official side of his nature; he was receiving compliments on hisbiscuits. The three who had aligned themselves against Vaniman seemedto be getting along in a very friendly fashion, being bound by a commoninterest. From biscuits in hand the conversation passed to the prison fare inretrospect. Wagg admitted that the fare was a disgrace to the state. From that point it was easy to go on and agree with the short man andthe tall man that the prison was mismanaged generally and that a man waslucky in being able to get away from such a place--no matter whetherhe was a guard or a prisoner. The incongruous friendliness increasedVaniman's amusement. He looked at the two knaves who had recently enlightened their victim insuch a matter-of-fact manner. He admitted that the comedy overbalancedthe tragedy, in view of the fact that the job had resolved itself intopetty sneak-thievery. Taking into consideration the trick money theyhad found, there was considerable farce in the affair. However, Vaniman, looking ahead to the threatening to-morrow, perceived tragedy loomingagain. Victim, criminals, guard of the criminals, they were breaking bread in atemporary comradeship of a bizarre nature--a money quest. But that moneyinterest which bound them of an evening would be a disastrous problem onthe morrow, if one man attempted to stand out against three. The one man made up his mind that there was a risky resource for him--toflee and take his chances alone in the woods; he had decided to put hisown personal interpretation on the promise, "To-morrow!" Right after supper he turned into his bunk, in order to simulate slumberand avoid the questions that he could not answer. The two new arrivals had had much to say about their weariness. Heexpected that they would promptly eliminate themselves as obstacles toflight. Mr. Wagg, at any rate, had shown a confiding disposition allalong. But the tall man and the short man conferred _sotto voce_ and let itbe known that they had suspended payment of confidence currency for thetime being. "The idea is, " explained the short man, "this being a pleasant party, and all interests being common, it would be a shame to have it brokenup. Tom will sit there in the door for two hours--then he wakes me andI sit there. We're not accusing anybody inside of wanting to leave; butwho is sure that somebody from the outside may not stroll along and wantto come in? Seeing that we went down to the pen from Levant, it may bethought--providing they do any thinking at the state prison--that wehave come back here to start in where we left off. On the other hand, providing they don't do any thinking, they may come up into this sectionbecause a reasoning man never would believe we'd take chances by comingback into an old stamping ground. Either way it's looked at, we've gotto be careful. Therefore, we hope that gents of a pleasant party willconsider this double-shift arrangement as being for the general good ofall hands. " Mr. Wagg was pleased. He said so unhesitatingly, but not tactfully. Hedeclared that he would mortally hate to be surprised keeping the companyhe was in. Vaniman was able to stay awake through most of the two watches. But theshort man on sentry go was more vigilant than the tall man had been; twohours of sleep and the keen hope for the morrow conspired to keep theguard alert. In despair the young man loosed his hold on the hatefulverities and slipped into slumber. He was suddenly awakened by a pinching grip on his arm. He opened hiseyes upon broad day and upon the face of the tall man. He was aware thatthe short man was shaking Wagg awake in the next bunk. "Two men comingup the side of the mountain; got a slant at 'em through the trees;they're after us!" "Sho!" demurred Wagg. "They're only bird hunters. " "We're taking no chances on 'em being jailbird hunters! Are there anyholes here in the rocks?" "Plenty, " stated Wagg. "And the three of you better hunt them holes, nomatter who is coming. " The short man, the tall man, and Vaniman needed no urging on that point. They ran, crouching low, and scrambled out of sight among the ledges ofthe craggy peak of Devilbrow. Wagg lighted his pipe and went out and sat on the bench beside thecamp's door, and when the two early visitors came puffing up the hilland confronted him he was to all appearances enjoying the delights of abland fall morning and the comfort of an unruffled conscience. He jumpedto his feet and hailed one of the men with a great show of cordiality;the man was one of the deputy wardens of the state prison. Mr. Wagg hopefully and guilelessly expressed the conviction that theofficer had followed along into the wilderness in order to join in theprocess of recuperation. The deputy asserted that Mr. Wagg was wrong to the extent of a damsite, or something of the sort, and reported some recent happenings at thestate prison, Mr. Wagg listening with appropriate, shocked, officialconcern. He opined that it was a long shot, figuring that the convictshad fled back to the region of Levant. The warden agreed. "But theOld Man is bound to have us tip over every flat rock, Bart. He got acall-down for that accident--and this matter on top of it has made himsore. I'm up here this far because I got a line on you at Levant. " "You did, hey?" Mr. Wagg gazed off across the landscape, as if wonderinghow much of a trail he had left. "You dropped 'recuperates' like a molting rooster drops feathers, Bart, "averred the warden, jocosely. "That was my trail. Reckoned I'd come andtip you off so that you can do a little scouting for the good cause. " Mr. Wagg threw out his chest. "You can leave this hill section to me. Always on the job! That's my motto. " The deputy said he knew that, stated that he would probably spend a weekalong the highways and in the villages of the section, got a drink ofwater from a spring near at hand, and departed with his aide. And after the two were far down the slope, Mr. Wagg called in hiscampmates with the caution of a hen partridge assembling the brood afterthe hunter has passed. "It means that we've got to stick close by thiscamp and mind our business for a week, at any rate, " he said, after hehad reported the conversation. Vaniman could not keep the complacency out of his countenance. He caughtthe short man squinting at him with a peculiar expression. "It would bemighty dangerous for any one of us to go far from this camp, " said theyoung man. "It sure would!" agreed the convict, sententiously. Vaniman was promptly conscious that his innocent air had not beenconvincing. He became more fully aware of that fact when the tall man and the shortman resumed guard duty that night, turn about. It was plain that theyproposed to hang grimly to the token in their possession until the tokencould be cashed in for the coin. The confinement behind prison bars had tested Vaniman's powers ofendurance; this everlasting espionage by the men who had set themselvesover him tried him still more bitterly. They lacked the sanction ofthe law which even an innocent man respects while he chafes. Whilethat situation continued he was prevented from taking any step towardclearing up his tangled affairs. He could look down on the roofs ofthe village of Egypt and meditate savagely--and that was all. Vona hadapprised him of Britt's plans regarding a mansion. He could see thatstructure was taking shape rapidly. Men swarmed over it like bees overa hive. He did not doubt the loyalty of the girl. But he was left towonder how long her loyalty to the memory of a dead man would endure. Day by day, through dragging hours, he suffered from the agonizingmonotony of the camp. But the future offered only a somber prospect. After this respite in the insistence of the treasure seekers, he couldexpect only ugly determination when they dared to make a move in thematter. They had plenty of leisure for talk. They were already spendingthat money! Wagg was even more impatient than the others. Though Vaniman had been cruelly tortured by thoughts of the injusticethat had been visited on him, by his reflections that the Egyptianshad shown him no consideration, he had nursed the hope that he mightcontrive to give them back their money after he had dragged from Brittthe truth. But at last, in his new spirit of loneliness, in the consciousness thatno man's hand was offered to him in the way of help, he entered upon anew phase of resolution. He had gone into prison with youth's ingenuousbelief that the truth would prevail. He had permitted a lie to aid inprying his way out, and now he was paltering with evasions and making noprogress except toward more dangerous involvement. One afternoon suddenfury swept the props out from under caution. He leaped up from the rock on which he had been sitting, pondering, therumble of the conspirators' conversation serving as obbligato for thecry his soul was uttering. He was between them and the sunset sky. "The truth!" he shouted. The three men peered at him, shading their eyes. He seemed to tower withheroic stature. He came at them, shaking his fists over his head. "You are thieves and renegades. I don't believe you know the truth whenyou hear it. But you're going to hear it. " He tackled Wagg first. He set the grip of both of his hands into theslack of the shoulders of the amazed guard's coat and yanked Wagg to hisfeet and shouted, with his nose barely an inch from Wagg's face, "I toldyou the truth at first. I said I didn't know where the money was. Yougave me a chance to get out by a lie. I'm human. I took the chance. " He threw Wagg from him with a force that sent the man staggering; theguard stumbled over a rock and fell on his back. He turned on the convicts. By his set-to with Wagg he had gained theirfull attention. "You low-lived scoundrels, do you know an honest manwhen you lay eyes on him? I declare that I am one. Dispute me, and I'llknock your teeth down your throats--guns or no guns. I don't know wherethe money is. I never touched that money. I didn't know what was inthose sacks. If you were decent men, with any conception of an oathbefore God, I'd swear to the truth of what I say. I won't lower myselfto make oath! I make the statement. And now let some of you--or allthree of you--stand up in front of me and tell me that I'm lying. Comeon! It's an open field!" They did not stand up. Wagg merely sat up. "Say something! Some one of you! Say something!" pleaded Vaniman throughhis set teeth. The convicts kept their sitting. Vaniman went on adjuring them to standup and say something. They showed no resentment when he called themnames, and they indicated no relish for battle. "Hold on a minute!" pleaded the short man. "You seem to have yourmind well made up as to what we'd better not say. I may have to eatstate-prison grub again, and I'll need my teeth. Won't you kindly drop ahint as to what would suit you in the line of talk?" "You can tell me whether you think I'm handing you the truth or not. " "I think you are, " agreed Bill, readily. "So do I, " asserted Tom. "How about you, Wagg?" Vaniman demanded, resolved on clearing the matterup once for all. But the lethargic Mr. Wagg was manifestly unable to turn his slow witson the single track of the mind and start them off in the oppositedirection. "No matter about him now, " said the short man. "Give his mind time. Atoadstool grows fast after it gets started. " This meek surrender helped Vaniman to regain his poise. "If you'rewilling to take the truth from me, men, I'll meet you halfway. You havebeen frank and open with me. Men who pretend to be better than you, theyhave lied to me and about me. That's why I was sent to state prison. " "Tom and I couldn't do business like we do if we lied to folks of ourkind. Didn't we cash in our word to the trusty? Being in the hole, asyou are right now, you'll excuse me for saying that we consider you oneof our kind. " "Thank you, " returned the young man, accepting that statement at facevalue. The short man lighted a cigarette and pondered for a few moments. "Youdidn't take the money. Tom and I believe what you say. Wagg will catchup with the procession later. All right, Vaniman! But seeing how anxiousyou were to get out and up here, it's likely that you have a prettygood idea as to who did take the money. If you need any help in squaringyourself, I'll call your attention to the fact that here are a couple ofgents who have a little spare time on their hands. " Vaniman was then in no mood to balance the rights and the wrongs of thecase. "I have started in on the basis of the whole truth, and I'm comingthrough, men. I'm following your lead. I was framed in that bank matter. There was a man who had the opportunity to exchange junk for that gold. He made that opportunity for himself by working on my good nature. Theman is Tasper Britt, who was the president of that bank. He took themoney. He knows where it is. " "Do you think he is the only one who knows?" "Naturally, he wouldn't be passing the word around. " "You're a bank man--you had the run of the premises--you had a chance toknow the general style of his ways! What do you guess he did with it?" "I'm sticking to the truth--and what I actually know. I'm not guessing. " "Not even when you say he took the money?" "I didn't see him take it. But he had a private entrance to the vault. Everybody was so determined to plaster the guilt on to me that nomove was made against Britt on account of that back door of his. I wasrailroaded by perjurers--and Britt was the captain of 'em. " "There's a corner on 'most everything these days, but it's reallytoo bad for a man like Britt to have a corner on so much valuableknowledge, " sighed the short man. And the tall man sighed and agreed. Mr. Wagg was catching up. With the appearance of a man who had beenrunning and was out of breath he panted, "What's--what's gong to be doneabout it?" Vaniman made no suggestions. Having cut the knot of his own entanglementwhere these men were concerned, he felt no spirit of alacrity aboutinviting them farther into his personal affairs; he realized that hehad merely shifted the course of their dogged pursuit of that money. Inspite of his feelings toward Britt, he was dreading what might come fromthe disclosures he had just made. He had reason to distrust the tacticssuch men might employ. His relief arising from the show-down was tingedwith regret; he was still sorry for the innocent losers in Egypt. Toemploy two escaped convicts and a recreant prison guard in his effortsto prevail on Britt and secure the rights due an innocent man promisedto involve him more wretchedly. "Vaniman, suppose you take command and give off your orders, " said theshort man. "I haven't any sensible plans. I admit that. I have been so pestered andwrought up by the everlasting bullyragging about the devilish money thatI haven't had a chance to figure out a way of getting at the man whohas ruined me, " Vaniman complained. He strode to and fro, snapping hisfingers, revealing his sense of helplessness. "Suppose we sleep on the thing--the whole four of us, " suggested theshort man. "I said sleep, please note! This general show-down hascleared the air up here a whole lot, I'll say! And Wagg has steered awaythe dicks! They won't be strolling in, and till we have settled on aplan I'm sure nobody will feel like strolling out. The night watch isdisbanded. " He marched off toward the camp. The others trailed on behind him. CHAPTER XXVII THE STIR OF THE YEAST Mr. Delmont Bangs was naturally of an observant nature. While he was inEgypt he was keeping his eyes particularly wide open. He was lookingfor two men wanted by the state. Mr. Bangs was the deputy warden who hadgone up to the summit of Devilbrow in order to view the landscape o'erand pass the word to Mr. Wagg. Mr. Bangs rode along every highwayand byway, day after day, not missing a trick. He was not especiallysanguine in regard to locating the missing convicts in that section, but he was obeying the warden's orders; after a day or so he was alsoobeying an impulse to satisfy his curiosity in lines quite apart fromhis official quest. He spent his nights at Files's tavern and grabbed his meals wherever hehappened to be. But after a time he found that housewives were unwilling to give himanything to eat. He was sure that they had not soured on him because hewas a state catchpole. When he first arrived in town and gave out thenews of his mission and issued a general call for tips he was welcomedheartily by everybody; the women, especially, hoped that he would findthe villains and put them where they could not threaten unprotectedfemales. Mr. Bangs had not been able to spend his money for food atfarmhouses; the women would not accept any pay, and gave him their best. However all at once they could not be induced to give food or even tosell it. They acted as if they did not care to be bothered; some of themdeclared that they were too busy to do cooking. They would not allow Mr. Bangs to stick his nose into their houses; they snapped refusal at himfrom behind doors only partially opened and foot-braced. Men with whom Bangs conversed wore an air of abstraction. They plainlywere not interested in Mr. Bangs or in the convicts whom he waspursuing. He tackled them on all sorts of subjects, hoping to hit on thetopic which was absorbing so much of their attention. He went so far asto ask them bluntly what they were carrying on their minds besides hair. Those who were not surly looked scared. Even the barn doors were no longer frankly open. There was a mysterioussort of subsurface stir everywhere. There was expectancy that was illdisguised. Mr. Bangs, a stranger, perceived that strangers, for someunexplained reason, had ceased to be popular in Egypt. One day a mangruffly told him that detectives would do well to go off and do theirdetecting in some other place. That was pretty blunt, and Mr. Bangsinformed his helper that he, personally, had had about enough of thegummed-up, infernal town. He declared that he was going to leave. Mr. Bangs was more certain about his departure when he arrived back atFiles's tavern that evening. Mr. Files informed him that there wouldbe no more accommodations at the tavern after that night. Mr. Files, questioned, refused to say whether he intended to close the tavern orwas merely going away; he would reveal nothing about his further plans. Mr. Bangs went out and sat on the porch bench with his helper, andirefully asked that bewildered person what the ding-dong the matter waswith the dad-fired town, anyway? In default of specific knowledge the aide tried to be humorous. He toldMr. Bangs that it looked as if the hive was getting ready to swarm. Hisfacetiousness fell flat; Mr. Bangs scowled. The helper became serious. "I've been watching the old hystrampus they call the Prophet. Everywherewe've been the past few days, he seems to be just coming or just going. Noticed him, haven't you?" "Of course I've noticed him. " "I don't know what his religious persuasion is, because he hasn't doneany talking where I could overhear him. But he seems to be gettingbusier all the time. Do you know what he preaches?" "I'm working for the state prison, not the state insane asylum. " "Well, " drawled the other, "though I don't know what he's preaching, the general fussed-up condition here in this town reminds me of whathappened in Carmel when I lived there as a boy. One of them go-upperpreachers struck town. He finally got most of our neighbors into a stateof whee-ho where the womenfolks made ascension robes for all concernedand the menfolks built a high platform and they all climbed up on it andwaited all one night for Gabr'el's trump to sound. " "What's that got to do with this town?" demanded Mr. Bangs, impatiently. "Why, considering how near busted the town is--and all the timber cutoff and the farms run out--I wouldn't wonder a mite if the right kind ofa preacher could get 'em into a frame of mind where they'd be willing tostart for anywhere--even straight down, provided they couldn't arrangematters so as to go straight up, like the Carmel folks planned on. Notas how I say that these folks are going to get up and hump it out ofEgypt! But there's a whole lot of restle-ness in 'em! That's plainenough to be seen!" "If there's half as much of it in 'em as there is in me, right now, they'll all follow me when I drive out of town in the morning, " declaredMr. Bangs. "And what that king pin, name o' Britt, is building thatpalace over there for is beyond my guess. " "Expects to grab off the girl of the Vaniman case, " said the aide, whohad put himself in the way of hearing all the local gossip. Mr. Bangs lighted a fresh cigar. "Say, I'd like to find out whether thisstir here is a go-upper proposition. I'd join the party and go up, too, if I thought I could locate that cashier and find out where he hid thatmess of gold. " "Try the ouija board, " giggled the aide. However, in his desperate desire for information in general Mr. Bangsproceeded to try something which suited better his practical turn ofmind. He hailed Prophet Elias, who had appeared in the open door of UsialBritt's shop. The gloom of the autumn evening was deepened by vaporwhich came drifting from the lowlands after the night air had chilledthe moisture evoked by the sun from the soil. The open door set a patchof radiance on the dun robe of the dusk. The light spread upon thevapor, was diffused in it, furnished an aura of soft glow in the centerof which stood the robed figure. Deputy Bangs's first hail, when Elias opened the door and stoodrevealed, was contemptuously brusque; he used the tone he commonlyemployed toward his charges in prison; he perceived at first only thequeer old chap, the dusty plodder of the highways, the man of crackedwits. Bangs spoke as an officer, peremptorily: "Say, you! Come overhere. I want to talk with you!" The Prophet made no move, either with his feet or his tongue. In thehaze that lay between him and Bangs, the man of the robe seemed to towerand to take on a mystic dignity which had been lacking in the candidlight of day. After the silence had continued for some time Bangs spokeagain. His new manner showed that his eyes had been reprimanding histongue. "Excuse me! I didn't mean to sound short. But would you kindlystep across here? Or"--the eyes certainly had shamed the tongue and hadhumbled it--"or I'll come over there, if you'd rather have it that way. " The Prophet strode along the misty path of light and stood in the middleof the road. "Talk--but I must ask you to talk to the point and in fewwords. I have no time to waste on gossip. " "All right! Few words it is! What's the matter with this town all of asudden?" "Ask Pharaoh. The kingdom is his. " "I don't get you!" The deputy's helper pulled his chief's sleeve and hissed some rapidwords of explanation, more fruit gathered from local gossip. "Oh, so that's what you call him? However, I'm asking you. You ought toknow. I've seen you all over the lot, talking with everybody. " "Ask Pharaoh!" repeated the Prophet, sonorously. The helper nudged Bangs with a swift punch. "If you feel like takingthat advice, boss, here's your chance. There's Tasper Britt. " The magnate of Egypt was revealed suddenly, coming from the directionof his new mansion. He strode past Elias. "Ask Pharaoh!" advised theProphet once more, and Britt halted. He came back a few steps andaddressed the men on the tavern porch: "Can't a man who is deputy warden of our state prison find something foramusement better than stirring up a lunatic?" "I'm not trying to find amusement--not in this town, " returned Mr. Bangs. "I'm after information. He refers me to you--or so I take it!" "What information?" "There's something the trouble in this town and I'd like to know what itis. " "There it is, " barked Britt, pointing to Elias. "That's the principaltrouble--a lunatic spreading lunacy like smallpox. " "But what is it all about?" insisted Bangs, "What's this newexcitement?" "I know nothing about any excitement, sir. I attend to business insteadof gossip. If you can make it your business to take this pest to stateprison, where he probably belongs if his record could be dug up, thetown of Egypt will be all right again. " "Pharaoh, I have a message of comfort for you, " stated the Prophet. "This night do I depart from the land of Egypt. I go and I shall notreturn. " For some moments Britt did not find words with which to reply. Thenhe mumbled something about good riddance and shaking the dust from thefeet. "I shall shake all the dust from my feet this side of the border line, "said Elias. "Your land of Egypt cannot spare any soil. " "You are getting away just in time, " rasped the usurer. "I have beentolerating you since you got back from jail because I've been too busyto tend to your case. " "Ah!" commented Elias, mildly. This subtle humility goaded Britt's wrath more effectually than theProphet could have prevailed with resentful retort. "The next time it wouldn't have been a bailable trespass case. Do youdare to tell me why you kept looking in at the windows of my house?" "I was looking for the closet. " "What closet?" "For the closet where you keep the skeleton. But rest this night inpeace, Pharaoh. I am going away. " "I can sleep better for knowing that you are out of this town. " "Then promise me that you will sleep to-night--sleep soundly. Thatthought will cheer me as I go on my way. " Britt started along, makingno reply. "I bespeak for you sleep without dreams, " the Prophet calledafter him. "Your dreams, Pharaoh, might be colored with some of therealities--and that would be bad, very bad for your peace of mind. " Once more Britt strode back from the vapors. "Are you trying toprovoke me to smash my fist into your face? Are you trying to cook up ablackmail damage suit by the advice of that crook lawyer who bailed youout? I'm beginning to see why a lawyer was enough interested in you toget you back into this town. " "You guess shrewdly, Pharaoh. You have avoided the deep plot againstyour wealth. Let the thought make you sleep soundly to-night. I'm gladto make my confession and hope it will add to your peace of mind. " Usial Britt had appeared in the door of his cottage; he leaned lazilyagainst the jamb. "It will be a fine night for sleeping, " he remarked, amiably. "This fog is sort of relaxing to the nerves!" "Hold one moment, Pharaoh!" pleaded Elias. The appearance of the hatedbrother had started the magnate off once more. "I am anxious to makeyour night a peaceful one. If you see me go away, knowing that I shallnot return again before your face, the comfort of your knowledge willlull you to sleep. Wait!" He stepped to the door of the cottage, reached inside, and secured along staff. He picked up from the floor a huge horn--a sort of trump. He settled the curve of the instrument over his shoulder. He blew along and resounding blast. Then he marched away, taking long strides. He loomed in the first stratum of the vapor, the radiance from the opendoor showing him as an eerie figure; then the fog swallowed him up. Every few moments he sounded a mighty blast on the trump. The blareof the horn rolled echoes afar in the murk. Steadily the volume of thesound decreased; it was plain that the Prophet was traveling at goodspeed. "Well, I'll be dimdaddled!" grunted Mr. Bangs. His was the only commenton the departure of Prophet Elias from the land of Egypt--that is tosay, the only comment passed by the group in front of Files's tavern. Tasper Britt went his way toward the Harnden home, his lodgings still. Usial Britt closed his cottage door. Bangs found the sticky chill ofthe fog uncomfortable. He and his helper went in and upstairs to theirrooms. CHAPTER XXVIII THE SHADE WHO MEDDLED Sometime in the night Vaniman awoke, not suddenly, or with the sense ofhaving been disturbed, but torpidly, with the feeling that he had beenespecially deep in slumber. He recovered his senses slowly. Therefore, only gradually did he become aware of a peculiar new condition ofaffairs in the camp. He wondered idly, trying to make up his mind as towhat was different in the place this night. He heard the "yeak-yeak"of the crickets outside. He heard nothing else. Then he understood. His three comrades were not vocalizing their slumber in snores. He hadendured the torture philosophically night after night. His surprise awakened him fully. He listened, but he could not hearthe sound of breathing. He rolled out of his bunk and investigated. The light in the camp was merely the reflection of the paler hue of thenight outside, filtering through the open door and the single window. But he perceived that he was alone in the place--the bunks were empty. His primitive life in the camp had inured him to new habits; he had beenremoving only his shoes and his coat when he went to bed. He pulled onhis shoes--he did not bother with coat or hat. He rushed out ofdoors and called aloud, hoping that his panic was exaggerating hisapprehensions. There was no answer. Then his fears took definite shape and sought for confirmation. He ranto the horse hovel. The animal was gone. Standing there, bitterly conscious of what had happened and acutelyaware of what was likely to happen with those three miscreants on thetrail of the treasure that they coveted, Vaniman accepted his fullmeasure of responsibility. He did not excuse the passion which hadprompted him to open his heart in regard to Tasper Britt. It was plainthat they intended to unlock the secret of the money by the use ofBritt, going to any lengths of brutality the occasion might demand. To get at Britt they would be obliged to invade the Harnden home. The thought of what might develop from that sortie wrought havoc inVaniman's soul! His fears for Vona and her mother spurred him to actioneven more effectively than his conviction that his own cause was lost ifthe men were able to force the money from Britt. If they were capturedit would be like them to incriminate Vaniman as an accomplice; ifthey got safely away with the treasure there could be no revelationsregarding Britt's complicity in its concealment. Britt certainly wouldnot tell the truth about what had happened to him; the fugitives wouldhide their secret and their plunder. If ever a victim of devilish circumstances had a compelling reason toplay the game, single-handed and to the full limit of desperation, soVaniman told himself, he was the man. He ran from the hovel to the peak of the crag that overlooked thevillage of Egypt. He beheld below him a vast expanse of grayish white, the fleecy sea of the enshrouding vapor. He heard no sounds, he saw nolights. He had no notion of the hour. Wagg had accommodated him with thetime of day, when he asked for it, just as Wagg loaned him a razorand doled his rations, persistently and with cunning malice working tosubdue the young man's sense of independence. But in this crisis all of Vaniman's courage broke from the thralls inwhich prison intimidation and a fugitive's caution and despair had boundit during the months of his disgrace. No matter how long the others had been on their way! They would beobliged to go the long route around the hill, and were hampered by thevan; their grim forethought in taking the vehicle to transport theirbooty, as if they were sure of succeeding, was another element thatwrought upon Vaniman's temper. As he was, without coat or hat, he leaped from the crag, as if he weretrying to jump squarely into the middle of the village of Egypt. Hehad taken no thought of the steepness of the slope or the dangers ofdescent. He slipped and rolled for many rods and a rain of rocks andearth followed him and beat upon him when he caught a tree and clungto it. He went on more cautiously after that; blood trickled from thewounds on his face where the sharp edges of rocks had cut. He thrusthimself through the scrub growth, opening a way with the motions of aswimmer, his hands scarred by the tangled branches. There were othersteep places that were broken by terraces. When he was down from therocky heights on which the vapor did not extend and had entered theconfusing mists, he was obliged to go more slowly still, for he narrowlymissed some nasty falls. Fierce impatience roweled him. He would not allow himself to weaken hisdetermination by thinking on what he would do after he arrived at theHarnden home. He had set that as his goal. Above other considerations heplaced his frenzied resolution to protect Vona. He realized that he mustprotect her even from himself--from the shock she would suffer by hisunprefaced appearance, this lover who would come like one risen from thedead! The scoundrels who came seeking Britt in her home would not be asterrifying as the visitor who would seem to be a specter--the shade ofthe convict whom a mountain had crushed, so said the official reports ofthe tragic affair. The fact that he was rushing to meet in combat three men, armed anddesperate, worried him less than his anguished concern in behalf of thegirl who was unprepared for his advent by hint or warning. At last he came to the pasture slopes where he was more sure of hisfooting. He ran. When he heard the rumble of wheels he stopped in orderto listen, trying to distinguish the location of the sound in the fog, which made direction uncertain. He knew it must be late. Few vehicleswere moved in Egypt after dark. He suspected that what he heard was thevan. However, he was puzzled by what he was hearing. Either there were manyvehicles, or else the echoes were playing pranks in the mistswhich enwrapped all objects. Under the pall of fog all sounds wereexaggerated. To right and left, near at hand and far away he heard therumble of wheels, the creak of whiffletrees, and the plodding feet ofanimals. He heard, too, an occasional, dust-choked bleat or a plaintive lowing. But a sound that was repeated regularly he could not understand, norcould he determine the direction from which it came. It was sounddiffused like the fog itself. It was mellowed by distance. He recognizedthe notes as the winding of some sort of a horn or trump. Vaniman's ears were telling him nothing definite. He hurried on down thehill so that he might make his eyes serve him at closer range. In orderto see what was going on in the highway he was obliged to go close tothe wall which bordered it; though the fog hindered, it helped, for inthe obscurity he was well hidden among the bushes. First he saw a hayrack go past. Two horses drew it. It was piled highwith household goods, and women and children were on top of the load. Two cows were hitched on behind. By the time the fog had hidden thisconveyance a wagon of the jigger type rumbled past. It was as heavilyloaded as the hayrack. He heard other vehicles coming--he heard stillothers far down the road on their way. He was urged by a furious desire to shout--to ask what all this meant. But he did not dare to run such risks. There was a wall between him andthe rest of humanity until his sorry affairs could be straightened. The highway gave him a clew as to his whereabouts; he had been lostin that wallow of vapor, unable to distinguish north from south. Heretreated from the wall and stooped as he ran along behind the screen ofthe wayside alders. He had an affair of his own to look after, no matterwhat the rest of Egypt was doing. In spite of his haste, he carefully scrutinized each item in thissingular parade of the night, keeping near enough to the road forthat purpose. It seemed like some sort of a migration. He wondered howcomprehensive it was. He wanted to be sure that nobody in whom he wasespecially interested passed him without his knowledge. There was everykind of an equipage that would convey people or property. Nobody wastalking. So far as was possible, the human beings in the processionseemed to be trying to make a secret of the affair. Mothers hushedtheir children when the youngsters chattered or whimpered. Men merelywhispered commands to the horses. All at once Vaniman beheld the van. It was holding a place in the paradeand was moving with the decorous slowness of the other vehicles. On thedriver's seat with Wagg were the two convicts. The comrade whom they haddeserted waited until it had passed; then he ran out into the road andducked along close to the rear of it. They were coming away from the village of Egypt. To what extent had theysucceeded in their rascally errand? What burden were they conveying?Vaniman could not curb his wild desire to find out. He had had plenty ofexperience in dodging into that van. He lifted the flap and leaped in. There was black darkness in there. He put out his hand cautiously. It touched a man. The move that the man made was a sort of fruitlessstruggle, indicating that his limbs were secured in some way. Vaniman, in that crisis in his affairs, was not affected bysqueamishness. He used his hands. He immediately discovered that the manwas tied up hand and foot with torn cloth, strips of sheets or somethingof the kind. The man's only apparel was a nightshirt. Around his neck, so Vaniman's touch told him, was a leather cord to which keys wereattached. Tasper Britt had told his cashier that he always carried hiskeys to bed with him in that fashion, and he had advised Vaniman toemploy the same caution. This prisoner in the van was certainly the magnate of Egypt. Vanimanfound that a towel was bound tightly across the bearded mouth; the youngman even ran his hand over the bald pate, now divested of its toupee. There was no gold in the van. Vaniman made sure of that after he hadsatisfied himself as to the identity of Britt. While the young man was endeavoring to steady his whirling thoughts, striving to plan some course of action by which he could turn thesituation to his personal benefit, his attention became taken up inanother quarter. Through the trap he heard the voice of the short man. "Quick! Off the road. Nobody's in sight!" The van lurched and the front of it dipped with a violence that droveVaniman and Britt against the end. Up came the front and the rearsagged. Then the van went bumping and swaying over uneven ground. Theclaw-clash of the branches of trees against the sides informed Vanimanthat the men had driven into the woods. When the vehicle halted, the young man crawled forward and huddled downinto as compact a ball as he could make of himself. He heard the three men dismounting. "I'll tell the world that this is ahandy night for us, whatever it is that's going on in this burg!" It wasthe voice of that ever-ready spokesman, the short man. "There would havebeen a head at every window if we had been obliged to go teaming aroundall by ourselves, in the night. But they wouldn't have noticed a coupleof giraffes and a hippopotamus in that procession. " "I couldn't see that they even paid any attention to those womensqualling upstairs when we did the job, " was the tall man's opinion. "Handy night, say you? Why, that man we braced up to and asked where wasBritt's boarding house, he seemed to have so much of his own businesson his mind that he wasn't wondering a mite what our business with Brittmight be. " "Get busy!" said the other convict. "That business is only justbeginning. " There was a stir of feet. "Hold on!" It was the voice of Wagg, mumbling cautiously. "Tie yourhandkerchiefs over your faces like I'm doing. " "Right!" the short man agreed. "Always leave 'em guessing when you saygood-by!" A few moments later Wagg lifted the flap; Vaniman saw him outlinedagainst the fog. The convicts reached in and pulled Britt out, and theflap was dropped. "Look out!" the short man warned. "Loosen that towel only a little andhold your clutch on his gullet, bo! We're not any too far from thatroad, and we'll understand the good news if he'll only whisper it. " After a few moments he went on. "Man, we've got you--got you foul! Youknow where that gold coin is. Shut up! No argument. You tell us where itis. Then you won't get hurt. If you don't tell us, you _will_ get hurt. Get busy with your mouth!" In spite of his abhorrence at this method of extorting the truth, Vaniman was conscious of a feeling of comradeship with the threerapscallions at that moment. They were merely seeking loot. He wasseeking the re-establishment of his honor and his love. He waited in thetense silence, straining every nerve to hear. No sound came to him. Hewondered whether Britt, cowed, was whispering the information. "Get busy, I tell you!" Evidently the prisoner was obstinate. Minute after minute the short man labored with the captive, the snarl inhis insisting voice deepening into the diapason of malevolent threat. But Britt said no word. Vaniman, feeling that all the prospects of his life were at stake, decided to play a waiting game. In spite of their culpable motive, themen outside were serving as his aides in the crucial moment. They weredemanding information which the usurer owed to the innocent. "Oh, very well, " said the master of ceremonies. "We'll go on with therest of the program, then. One of you bring that side lamp and light it. And help me get this towel tighter. He's going to try some squalling. " Vaniman saw the flare of the lamp past the edge of the flap. He sethis teeth and decided that he would not interfere. When he heard soundswhich, muffled in the towel, were like the whines and grunts of atortured animal, he stiffened his determination to await the issue. "Now loosen the gag and let him talk! I reckon he has found something tosay. " Vaniman heard louder groans. But Britt gave out no information. "Back with the talk-tickler! Hold it closer! The same foot! We've got agood start on that one. " The man in the van felt his gorge rising, in spite of the fact that thevictim was a relentless persecutor of others. The stifled accents ofagony were dreadful. After a time the short man spoke. Into three words he put the venom ofa malice that would not be gainsaid. "Now, damn you!" His tone hinted atno regret for what had gone on before; it suggested that there was moreto come; it was compelling demand that the captive should employ therespite that was offered. Britt began to babble; there was a suggestion of partial mania in histones. Vaniman could not understand what he was saying, but the sharpquestions that were interjected by the manager of the affair--thequeries that gimleted for additional information--suggested the line ofconfession that Britt was giving forth. "Yes--in the bank! Where in the bank? . . . I heard that, but where?. . . In the basement, hey? Well, where in the basement? . . . Concreteblock hey? . . . Come across! . . . Along here with that lamp, bo! . . . Exactly where is that block?" Through Vaniman there flooded something that was almost a delirium ofderring do. He did not know just what he would be able to perform--oneagainst three. He did not dare to wait for any farther developments inthe thing. He was possessed by the frantic fear that the knaves woulduse their information and beat him to the treasure. That the money wassomewhere in the basement of Britt Block was enough for him at thatjuncture. He decided that the time for stealth was past. He wouldproclaim the news. He would tell his story. He would trust the case tothe fair judgment of men. He scrambled forward in the van and made a hasty survey of thesituation. Britt was stretched on the ground. The two convicts werekneeling side by side, bending over their captive, and the short man wasstill plying Britt with questions. Their backs were toward the man inthe van. Wagg was kneeling at Britt's feet, holding the carriage lamp, shielding the flare with a curved palm. The posture of all three of them invited the attack that Vanimaninstantly decided on. He could not hope that he would be offered abetter opportunity. He flung aside the flap, he leaped from the opening. Spreading hisknees, he landed on the convicts, a knee on each back, and then hebrought his hands toward each other with all his strength, cuffing theirskulls together with a resounding crack. They fell across Britt. Vaniman was on his feet while Wagg was rising; the guard's slow mindwas operating ineptly on his muscles. The young man felled Wagg with avicious blow under the ear. The convicts, knocked senseless, were on their faces, pinning Britt tothe ground. The butts of the bulldog revolvers in their hip pockets wereexposed. Vaniman snatched out the weapons. He aimed one of the revolversat Wagg, who had struggled to his knees. "Your knife! Throw it to me!Quick!" Under the menace of the gun Wagg obeyed. The young man pocketed the guns for a moment. He rolled the revivingconvicts off Britt and slashed the prisoner's bonds and tore the towelfrom his face. It was in his mind to force Britt to crawl into the van. He was regarding Britt as his chief witness and principal exhibit in theexposure he proposed to lay before the people of Egypt. In the back ofVaniman's head there may have been some sort of consideration forthe man who had ruined him--scruples against leaving him with thoserenegades who had tortured him. However, the young man was consciousof the more compelling motive--to carry Britt along with him, to forceBritt, before the eyes of men, to uncover the hiding place of thetreasure. He trained his guns on the three men, backing away from them in order tohave them at a safe distance. Britt was on his knees. He was staring atVaniman with unblinking eyes in which unmistakable mania was flaming. The attack on him in his bed that night, the blow that had stunnedhim so that the assailants might tie him up, the ride in the strangeconveyance, the dreadful uncertainty of what it was all about--thesematters had wrought cruelly upon the victim's wits. The torture by theflame had further unsettled his mind. And at that moment, coming downfrom the heavens, so it seemed, a dead man had appeared to him. Britt's recent experience had rendered him incapable of surveying thething from a normal viewpoint. He saw the man whom he had disgracedby plot and perjury, the man who was buried under tons of rock, so thestate had officially reported, the man to whose return after seven yearsof punishment Britt had been looking forward with dread. He had sleptmore peacefully since that tragedy had been enacted at the prison. Brittwas not admitting that this was a human being in the flesh. Alreadypartially crazed by the manhandling from which he had suffered, hepeered at this apparition, a mystic figure in the aura of the fog--theshade of Frank Vaniman, so his frantic belief insisted--and leaped up, screaming like a man who had gone stark, staring mad. Before Vaniman had time to issue a command Britt ran away along the laneby which the van had entered the wood. He was an extraordinary figure inflight. His night robe fluttered behind as he ran. For the most part hehopped on one foot; he yelped with pain when he was obliged to set theblistered foot on the ground in order to recover his balance. Vaniman did not stay to threaten the three men. He had their weapons andhe did not fear them. He ran after Britt. CHAPTER XXIX THE FOX WHO WAS RUN TO EARTH Vaniman's first impulse was to overtake the fugitive. He wanted to haveBritt in his grip, holding to him, forcing him to confess and restore. But when Britt reached the highway and started in the direction of thevillage, saner second thought controlled the pursuer. Britt had becomea self-operating proposition; Vaniman felt that, although sudden frightwere spurring Britt, a fear more inherently characteristic was pullingthe usurer on his race to the village--he had betrayed the hiding placeof hard cash! He was rushing to protect it. By running to the treasureBritt would be betraying something of more moment to Vaniman than gold. The young man kept his distance, keeping the quarry in sight, running afew feet behind Britt in the fog. In the mist the two were like the flitting figures of a fantasy. Theroad was still well filled with wains and pedestrians, following afterthose who had gone on ahead. The wains stopped; the pedestrians haltedand gaped and gasped. Women cried out shrilly. Vaniman and Brittfurnished an uncanny spectacle. The eyes which beheld them saw them onlyfor an instant; the fog's curtain allowed each observer scant time todetermine what these figures were. Britt, hairless, his face sicklywhite, his night gear fluttering, was as starkly bodeful as if he werenewly risen from the grave, garbed in death's cerements. Vaniman'spresence on the scene added to the terrifying illusion produced byBritt. This pursuer had been officially proclaimed dead. They who beheldbelieved they saw a dead man. The face was smutched with blood. The eyeswere wide and were set straight ahead. Vaniman was taking no chances onlosing the man whom he was chasing. After the first thrill of horror, wild curiosity stung the men of Egypt. They dropped the reins, those who were driving horses, and joined thosewho had turned in their tracks and were following the phantoms of thenight. In this fashion, with the rout and rabble behind and Vaniman close onhis heels, Tasper Britt arrived at Britt Block--and even the statue inits niche seemed to goggle with amazed stare. Britt did not stop to lift the loop of the leather thong over his head;with a fierce tug he broke the cord. He unlocked the door and rushed in. After Vaniman followed, the men outside hesitated only momentarily. Their numbers gave them courage. They crowded into the corridor. Some ofthem were carrying the lanterns which they had used to light the way ofthe procession of carts. Britt did not enter his office; he ran the length of the corridor andflung open the door which led to the basement. The pursuers kept on atthe heels of Vaniman. But they took the precaution to allow the men withthe lanterns to go ahead. Britt went frantically at his work, paying no attention to anybody. Infact, he did not seem to realize that others were present. There was aheap of furnace wood in one corner of the basement; he began to heavethat wood in all directions. One of the lanterns was smashed by abillet. The men in the place were obliged to dodge the flying sticks. Britt worked as if he were alone in the place. He talked to himself. "Demons are after it. Demons and dead men! The demons sha'n't have it. I told 'em where it was. But I'll take it away. The demons brought hellfire to make me tell. They brought a dead man. But they sha'n't haveit. " "He's gone raving crazy!" cried an onlooker in shrill tones. "Come on, men! Let's catch him and tie him up, " suggested somebody else. But they were prevented by fears which were made effective by influenceswhich did not seem to partake wholly of human qualities. In their concentrated interest in the active Britt they had beendisregarding Vaniman, who was restraining himself, standing outside theradiance of the lanterns. The next instant he leaped into the sight of all of them. He stoodbetween them and Britt. He pulled his weapons. His blood-spotted faceseemed a vision of the unreal; but the guns were unmistakably theagents which a human being would employ in an emergency. And there was abusinesslike click in his tone. "Stand back, the whole of you! This is ashow-down. Tasper Britt is confessing that he is a thief and a liar. Useyour eyes. " They cowered back from the threat of the guns and did use their eyes. They saw Britt uncover a section of the basement floor of concrete. Theysaw him locate an iron ring that was cunningly concealed under a littlesquare of concrete which he pried up with his finger nails. He tugged atthe ring and lifted a slab. The men with the lanterns raised them high. The light glinted on gold--gold coins in bulk, naked of sacks. A man had come thrusting through the crowd in the basement, hurrying infrom the outside. It was Squire Amos Hexter. It was hard to determinefrom his expression which spectacle he found the more astounding--FrankVaniman at bay, in the flesh, or the gold coins that Tasper Britt wasdipping with both hands, sluicing them upon the concrete in jinglingshowers. Squire Hexter did find his voice. "Good God!" he shouted. "God is good!" said Vaniman. He threw the weapons into a far corner ofthe basement. "Squire Hexter, take charge of this thing. Here are plentyof witnesses. " The Squire went forward slowly. His lips moved without the sound ofspoken word. He set the clutch of his hands on Vaniman's arms. He staredlong and earnestly into the young man's eyes. "I can't talk now, " Vaniman quavered. And the Squire seemed to know, out of his sympathy with men, that therewas something for that case better than words. He put his arms aroundVaniman and kissed him. "Come along home with me to Xoa, sonny. " Britt struggled to his feet, and groaned when his weight came on thetortured flesh. He looked about as if searching for something. "Abasket!" he muttered. "I must find a basket. " He started forward and saw Vaniman in the hook of the Squire's arm. Whether increase of his mania or some sort of remorse prompted hisutterance was not clear. "Take it back to Tophet with you! I didn't meanto keep it. I didn't know how to give it back. I took it so that they'dpen you up, out from under my feet. But even a thousand tons of rockcan't pen you. I'm done trying. If this is what you're chasing me for, take it! Keep away from me. " He went through the crowd, beating his way with his fists. "Shall we hold him, Squire?" called a man. "Let him alone for just now! He can't go far in that shape. We'll attendto him after a little while. " The Squire pulled himself together withthe air of one who saw that the situation needed a commander. He singledresponsible men from the crowd and ordered them to take charge of thecoin. "Come away with me, " he urged Vaniman. "This is no place for our talk. " When they walked out of the building they saw no sign of Britt. "We'lllet him alone, " insisted the Squire. "There'll be no use in asking himquestions till he's in his right mind. He'll probably get back his witswhen he gets back his clothes. " "Squire Hexter, what's happening in this town to-night. What--" "All in good time, sonny! Let's get home where Xoa is. " There were lights in the Squire's house. In spite of the fog, Vanimanperceived that there was a gray hint of dawn in the heavens. Moreacutely was he wondering what this universal vigil in Egypt signified. But reaction had overtaken him. He was in the mood to accept commands ofany sort. He walked on in silence. "You must stay out here till I break the thing to Xoa!" The young man clung to the trellis of the porch for a few moments untilXoa flung wide the door. Supported in her embrace, he staggered into thesitting room. "Cry, sonny! Cry a little, " the Squire adjured him. "Put your head onXoa's knee and have it out. It will tide you over till your own mothercan comfort you. " But wild desire for knowledge burned the sudden tears out of Vaniman'seyes. "Where is Vona? What is happening?" "We'll see to it mighty quick that Vona knows, sonny. The right wordmust get to her in the right way. Mother will know how. Mother, you'dbetter attend to it. " She agreed with that suggestion, but first she brought a basin and waterand soft cloths and solicitously made more presentable the young man'sface. While she ministered to him he told them what had been happening in hisaffairs. "You're alive. That's the main point. Now, Xoa, " urged the Squire, "goto Vona before some lunatic tells her something to scare her to death!" The good woman hastened away, her smile reassuring the lover. For some time the Squire regarded Vaniman with an expression into whichsome of the old notary's whimsical humor began to creep. "So it struckyou, did it, that you had dropped back into town on a lively night? Iwas expecting quite a general stir, myself. But I'll confess that thething hit me as livelier than what I had looked for when I was sittinghere and heard a man holler outside that your ghost had chased TasperBritt into his office. You see, the plan was not to have Tasperdisturbed by any human beings this night. We all hoped he would sleepsound. Everybody proposed to tiptoe when passing in the neighborhood ofthe Harnden house. But to have a ghost come and chase Tasper around townwas wholly outside the calculations of the human beings in Egypt thisnight. " "I'm afraid I don't see any joke hidden in this proposition, Squire, "the young man complained. "Son, it's a joke, but it's so big and ironic that only one of thosegods on high Olympus is big enough and broad-minded enough to be able tolaugh at it. Some day the folks of this town will be able to lookback on this night and laugh, I do hope. But not now. They're too muchwrought up. They're too busy. Hold on! I'm going to let another manexplain the thing. He's in a position to pass out information more tothe point than anything I can hand you. I'll simply say this. When yousaw what you beheld in the fog this night, you were seeing a revisedversion of the Book of Exodus acted out in real life. The Children ofIsrael, of this day and date, are departing from the land of Pharaoh, current edition. With their flocks and their possessions, their wivesand their children, they are on their way to The Promised Land. Andnow, if you'll step into the parlor with me I'll introduce you to thepromiser. " Vaniman followed CHAPTER XXX THE PROMISED LAND There was a big man in the parlor, a hearty-looking man, manifestly ofthe metropolis, patently of the "good sport" type. He was walking up anddown. With his tweed knickerbockers, his belted jacket, his diamonds inhis scarf and on his fingers, he was such an odd figure in the homelysurroundings that he produced on Vaniman a surprise effect. The youngman surveyed the stranger with the interest one might take in a queeranimal in a circus van; the big man's restless pacing suggested a cagedcreature. But he took not the least interest in Vaniman, an unkemptindividual without a coat. "Hexter, what did happen, anyway? I thought you were never coming back. I had a good mind to chase you up, though it would be poor judgment forme to show myself to-night. " "This has happened!" The Squire pointed to Vaniman. The big man cockedan inquiring eyebrow, looking at the Squire's exhibit with indifference. "Colonel, this is Frank Vaniman. You know all about the case!" The stranger stepped back so hastily that he knocked over a chair. "Know about the case!" he bawled. "No, I don't know about it, either, ifthis is the man the mountain fell on--or whatever it was that happened. What kind of con is this you're giving me, Hexter?" "This is the man, sir. What I mean by saying you know about the case isthat you have agreed with me that an innocent man was railroaded intoprison, after I gave you the facts. He is out through a trick workedby a prison guard. He'll give us the details later. Just now it's moreimportant for you to be told that Tasper Britt, by his own acts, hasconfessed that he robbed the Egypt Trust Company. " "Well, I'll be damnationed!" blurted the big man, with such whole-souledastonishment that the mode of expression was pardonable. "And I thoughtthat plenty and enough was happening in this town for one night!" "Frank, this is Colonel Norman Wincott. He has well understood your casefrom what I have told him. Now he will understand better. Colonel, won'tyou allow Frank's story to wait? He is in a dreadfully nervous state, poor chap. And I'm afraid he'll go crazy on our hands if he isn'tenlightened right away about what is going on here to-night. " Colonel Wincott strode across the room and slapped Vaniman cordially onthe shoulder with one hand and pumphandled with the other. "Plenty ofmen have escaped from state prison. There's a special novelty about astory of that sort. But let me tell you that I'm the only man in theworld who has ever put over a proposition such as this one that is onthe docket right here and now. I don't blame you for being interested. "It was plain that the colonel entertained no mean opinion of himself andhis projects. "All is, Vaniman, I hope your making a two-ring affair ofit hasn't taken the attention of the folks off the main show. " "It has only added to the general effect, " affirmed the Squire. "It's aclincher. Folks don't care now because Tasper Britt is awake. He has gotplenty of business of his own to attend to without calling in sheriffsto slap on attachments. " "Very good! The easier the better, " returned Colonel Wincott. "But whenI hired you to look after the law part, Hexter, I reckoned you couldcounter every crack he made. Sit down, Vaniman!" He picked up the chairhe had overturned and took it for himself. "You have seen the parade, some of it?" "I saw a great deal of it, sir. " "And you don't know where it's headed for?" "No. " The colonel leaned back and regarded the Squire with the satisfiedcontentment of a cat who had tucked away the last morsel of the canary. Then he winked at Vaniman. "Young man, did you ever hear of Wincott'sPure Rye?" "No, sir. " "Glad of it! Hope you never were familiar with any other brands. However, enough men did know about it in those dear, damp days beyondrecall to make me independent of the pawnshop, to say the least. And, having cleaned up a good pot with whisky running down men's gullets, Ireckoned I'd see what I could do with water running downhill. Do you getme at all so far?" "No, sir. " "Didn't suppose you would. I'm only shuffling the deck. Now for thedeal! Awhile ago I came up into this state from the South and I boughtthe unorganized township that bounds this town on the north. It had gonebegging for a buyer because it's mostly pond and water power. But it'swhat I wanted. And, having bought it, I used my check book and gotsome good lobbyists on the job and I got a conditional charter from thelegislature. That is to say, it becomes a town charter automatically themoment I can report a certain number of inhabitants--not mere men, butfamilies, regularly settled. Do you see?" "I surely do begin to see, Colonel Wincott. " "Vaniman, if I had gone to the cities and advertised for settlers, whatkind would I have got? Probably only a bunch of aliens dissatisfiedalready; if they weren't sore on general conditions I couldn't coax 'emto move. And aliens are always moving. I wanted some of the old breed ofYankee pioneers. That's what my folks were, 'way back. I took a slypeek into the town of Egypt. Good folks, but no opportunities here. Everything gone to seed. Up in my township a new deal with a fresh deck!Plenty of timber, plenty of rich land--and mills going up. Confound it!I propose to be boss of a real town--not a wild land plantation!" He suddenly shifted his posture. He came forward in his chair and sethis elbows on his knees. "Say, Vaniman, I got Hexter's opinion a fewdays ago when I opened up to him and hired him to attend to the law. ButI want to ask you now what you think of my real-estate agent?" The young man shifted his bewildered gaze from the colonel's jovial andinquiring visage to the Squire's equally cheerful countenance. "Known to Pharaoh and the modern Children of Israel as the ProphetElias, Frank, " explained the notary. "I have heartily indorsed his goodwork. Furthermore, he knows well how to keep a secret and how to trainothers to keep one. Tasper Britt went to bed this night without oneinkling of what was about to happen. He did not know that he was to beleft here without men to toil and pay him his twelve per cent. He hastown debts. He has the bare acres he has foreclosed on--he has thetumble-down houses. He has the paupers on the poor farm. He--" "Hold on, Squire! I forgot about those paupers, " broke in the colonel. "I want a town that's fully rounded out. A few paupers belong in a townso that they may serve to remind others folks that they must keep busyand avoid the poor farm. And even the paupers will wake up and go towork in my town! Work will be in the air. I'm going to send a wagonafter those paupers. Britt is no sort of a man to be allowed pets; he'lllet 'em starve. " "Undoubtedly, " agreed the Squire. "I'll say, further, Frank, that whenthe Prophet started off last evening, blowing his trump to sound thesignal for the migration, Britt stood and saw him go--and never guessedwhat it meant. " "I heard that horn--I wondered. " "He's a good blower, " stated Colonel Wincott. "He blew all the props outfrom under the man Britt. Solidly grounded on texts, Elias is! Vaniman, a brand-new scheme needs a resourceful operator. " He patted the top ofhis head. "Pardon me for flattering myself. I invented the system andthe Prophet played it. " Then Colonel Wincott leaned back, stuck his thumbs into the armholes ofhis vest, and rocked on the hind legs of the chair. "I played a hunch, "he went on. "I was going through Scollay Square in Boston one eveningand I heard a street evangelist holding forth. He was preaching on thesubject, 'Bondage. ' Sin he called Pharaoh. And he was hammering thehearers with texts from Exodus. The idea hit me. I hung up beside thecurb till he was through preaching, then I invited him to take a ridewith me in my car. And a wise old bird I found him to be! No hypocrite!Doing his best to help his fellow-men, but always hep! Never out of acity till I pulled him up here. Likes the country now. Going to be theregular preacher in my new town. No more robe-and-umbrella business, of course. That was my idea. I'm inclined to be a little circusy inmy notions. He stood for it. The scheme helped him to put over what hecouldn't have got away with by ordinary means. " Vaniman remembered those flashes of worldly wisdom in the Prophet, andwas enlightened. His countenance revealed his thoughts. "Had you guessing?" demanded the colonel. "Nothing like starting folksto guessing. Keeps up the interest. One by one Elias snipped the cordsthat bound the folks to the soil of this place. Did a fine job. They'regoing to thrive after they are transplanted. Even Squire Hexter is goingto bring up the rear guard, after he has finished here with the looseends of the law needed in the case. " "It's to be a clean sweep, Frank, " the Squire affirmed. "Even Usialand his press; the new town will be in his legislative class. " Thenhe looked long at Colonel Wincott, who was rocking on the legs of hischair. "I know mighty well what you want to say to me, Squire Hexter, " statedthe object of the regard. "You don't need to say a word, though. I'll dothe saying. Vaniman, you have had a raw deal. But you'll soon be throughthe woods. I'm going to have a bank in my new town. You're going to bethe boss of it. " "Just a moment before you say anything, Frank, " expostulated the Squirewhen Vaniman, choking with doubts and gratitude both, attempted tospeak. "I propose to start at once for the shire town. I'll begin withthe county attorney. I'll have your name cleared inside of twenty-fourhours. " "And don't bother with any Dobbins for that job, " declared the colonel. "Use my car. My chauffeur is hiding it in the bush a little ways fromhere. And now, Vaniman, give me all your attention, " he went on, withthe pride of a successful performer. "I'll tell you what's going tohappen over across the line in my town. It's going to interest you. Youhave been a man of affairs and you can grasp what I'm saying. " But Vaniman did not seem to be grasping even that introduction of thesubject. He had heard hurrying footsteps outside the house. "You'll never listen to anything that will stir your blood like what I'mgoing to tell you of my plans for the future, " insisted the colonel. But a tremulous voice called: "Frank! Frank!" Vaniman leaped from his chair and turned his back on the man whoproposed to stir the blood of the listener. Squire Hexter hurried to Colonel Wincott and whispered informationwhich caused the master of The Promised Land to elevate his eyebrowsunderstandingly. "Great Caesar! Why, sure!" he blurted, and popped up out of his chair. Following the Squire, he tiptoed to the door and stood on one side whenthe notary opened and peeped out. "Vona!" called the Squire, gently. "The boy is in here. Come!" She ran past them into the room. Colonel Wincott ducked out and the Squire followed and closed the door. He closed it slowly, softly, reverently, and then turned a smiling faceof compassionate understanding toward Xoa and the colonel. CHAPTER XXXI THROUGH THE GATES OF THE DAWN INTO "LIBERTY" There was a hush in the Squire's house. The three who were in thesitting room discussed affairs, subduing their tones almost to whispers. When somebody tramped on to the porch and pounded on the door, theinterruption was startling. The Squire went and opened the door and disclosed Deputy-Warden Bangs ofthe state prison. But when Bangs made a step forward the notary bulkedhimself in the doorway with all the dignity his modest size wouldpermit. "I'm led to believe that you have in this house an escaped convict, nameof Vaniman, " declared the officer. "Don't your prison records show that the convict named Vaniman isofficially dead, sir?" "I'll admit that; but if what I have heard since I was routed out of mybed is so, those records will have to be revised. " "I have no control over your records, " returned the Squire, grimly. Mr. Bangs made another step forward. "But I have full control over my own house, sir. You cannot come in. " "Do you stand in the way of a deputy warden of the state prison?" "I certainly do until he presents himself in my door with a propersearch warrant, instead of coming here on the strength of mere hearsay. " "I tried to get a warrant, " the officer confessed. "But I can't locatethe trial justice. " "I hear that he is moving, " was the Squire's dry retort. "You seem to be the only one in the place who isn't moving, " said Bangs, craning his neck to peer past the keeper of the door. "Oh, I'm simply delaying my departure a few days in order to close upsome matters of business. " "Let me tell you that if you're concealing a convict in this houseyou'll have more business than what you plan on. I'm up here--" "As you have reported to me and all others, you're up here to find twoescaped prisoners, sir. Very well! They are not in my house. But I haveheard from them. They were seen a very short time ago in the stretchof woods near here known as Baniman's Bower. If you hurry you may catchthem. " Bangs displayed prompt interest. He showed more when the Squire added:"They may be already captured. I learned, also, that a man who has beena prison guard was in the same locality. You officials seem to be veryvigilant!" Mr. Bangs choked back some sort of a threatened explosion. He stoodthere, shifting from foot to foot. Then he blurted: "Say, you seem to bethe most level-headed man in this town. I'll go chase those convicts ifyour tip is a straight one. But tell me! Am I having the nightmare, orare all these things really happening around here?" However, Squire Hexter did not try to comfort the perturbed Mr. Bangsjust then. The notary stepped out on the porch, closing his door behindhim. He stared into the graying murk of the night and the fog. That fogwas showing a light which was not that of the dawn. It was a spreading, baleful, reddening glare, and after a few moments it covered all thesky. Then men began to shout. There was an especial uproar from one quarter. The Squire knew that in the direction of the hullabaloos were locatedthe camps in which were lodged the imported workmen who had wrought intosolid structure the plans of the mansion that Britt had held in picturedform before the eyes of Egypt. The feet of running men pounded along the highway. Somebody cried, inclarion tones, "It's Tasp Britt's new house!" The Squire ran into the road, and Bangs followed. The notary hailed a little group of men who came rushing from thedirection of the main part of the village. "Why aren't you bringing thetub? Fetch Hecla! Quick, men!" "She's gone!" panted one of the group. "Gone?" "There wasn't any wagon left behind, Squire, and they had to haul thatgold. They hove it into Hecly's water tank and formed a guard, and she'sbeen a whole half hour gone!" At that juncture a man came running to them from the direction of thefire. The Squire recognized him as the boss of the carpenters. "Mr. Britt is in that house. I saw him through a window. But it's a furnacefrom top to bottom. " The Squire opened his mouth as if query, urgently demanding utterance, had pried apart his jaws. "How do you think the fire--" But he promptlyclosed his mouth and set his lips tightly. He shook his head withthe manner of one who did not require information. Then he turned andhurried to his house. Colonel Wincott and Xoa were on the porch, lighted by the great, redtorch whose radiance was flung afar by the reflector aid of the fog. "It's Britt's house--and Britt is in it, " he told them. "Colonel, yourman Friday had over many times one text that fits this thing. 'Can a mantake fire into his bosom, and his clothing not be burned?'" He went to Xoa and patted her arm. "Better go inside, mother. It isn't agood thing to be looking at. Where are the children?" Frank and Vona answered that question by appearing in the door. Theywere honestly affected by the news the Squire gave them. Vona hid herface against the young man's breast. "It seems to be a self-operating proposition, " stated Colonel Wincott. "And about all anybody can do is to let it flicker!" Vaniman was clearly not the captain of his soul in those distressingcircumstances. He was displaying symptoms of collapse. Squire Hexternoted and acted. "Wincott, this boy must not stay here in this town any longer. If thatprison guard runs afoul of him before I get matters under way at theshire, Frank will be galloped back to his cell in order to make agrandstand play. I've got to be going. Take Frank under your wing. Gethim over the border. " "Surest thing in the world!" declared the hearty colonel. "Got a hitch?" "My horse and double-seater. Come along to the stable--you, too, Frank. Xoa, bring him one of my coats and a hat!" Vona leaped away from her lover and faced the Squire. "I shall go withhim, wherever he may go!" she said, with the fire of one who expected tomeet opposition. But the Squire grinned. "Why, girl, of course you'll go! I wouldn't grablife-saving medicine away from a sick man. Take your mother along, andGod bless the whole of you on the way. " That way was toward the north, on the heels of the wains and the flocksand the herds and the men and women and children of the migratingpopulation of Egypt. Colonel Wincott occupied the front seat with Mrs. Harnden. By thetime he had teamed the Squire's fat little nag along for a mile he hadsucceeded in calming Mrs. Harnden's hysterical spirits. He inducedher to quit looking over her shoulder at the great torch that lightedluridly the heavens above the deserted town. "It's a pillar of fireby night, madam, as you say! But that's as far as it fits in with theExodus sentiment. It's behind us--and behind us let it stay. " At the end of another mile Mrs. Harnden was extolling the capability ofher husband. "I've heard about him, " said the colonel. "Optimist? So am I. Get intouch with him and tell him to come to my new town. He'll have somethingthat he can really optimize over. " Colonel Wincott sedulously kept his attention off the two who rode onthe back seat; he obliged Mrs. Harnden to do the same. After a time the trotting nag overtook the trailers of the procession. The colonel hailed and passed one wain after another, steadily calling, "Gangway!" They recognized his authority; they obeyed; they gave himhalf the road. He had an especially hearty greeting for the hand tub, Hecla, trundlingon its little wheels, men guarding its flanks, men pulling on the ropeby which it was propelled. Ike Jones was one of the guards. He gave thecolonel's party a return greeting by a flourish on the "tramboon. " "The stage starts from your town this morning, Colonel! Runs expressthrough Egypt. " "Good idea! Nothing but scenery left there, " agreed the colonel. "Takegood care of that gold, boys! The receiver of the Egypt Trust Companywill be able to cut _some_ melon!" But Prof. Almon Waite, toddling behind the treasure, had a metaphorof his own. "This gold will gloriously pave the streets of the NewJerusalem, sir!" They went on in the growing dawn, threading their way among the vehiclesand the folks on foot. In all their progress they met only one party headed in the oppositedirection, coming back toward the town that had been deserted. Vanimanbeheld Bartley Wagg teaming along the two convicts. They were tiedtogether and he was threatening them with a club. They merely flashedon the screen of the mist and were out of sight. It was evident thatMr. Wagg had determined to grab a couple of straws, at any rate, ina desperate attempt to buoy himself officially in the flood of hismisfortunes. The sun was burning away the mists when Colonel Wincott's turnout toppeda hill; he waved his whip to invite the attention of his passengers. "There she lies, folks! I've been calling it my town. From now on it'sour town. Some daisy on the breast of nature, eh?" There was a lake on the facets of whose ripples the sunlight danced. White water tumbled down cascades. Beside the lake there was a nest ofportable houses. "Homes till we build bigger ones, " explained the masterof The Promised Land. "I'm giving building lots free. The class ofsettlers warrants it!" Then Colonel Wincott called their attention to something else--somethingthat was not visible. He wrinkled his nose, but his sniff indicatedgusto. "Smell it? It's food for the Children of Israel. Not manna. Butit will fit the occasion, I hope. It's a barbecue. A whole ox and allthe fixings. " Then they came to a high arch, fashioned from boughs of fir and sprucetrees. The wains were rolling under it. Frank and Vona lifted up their eyes. At the top of the arch, in greatletters that were formed of pine tassels fastened to a stretch ofcanvas, was the word, "LIBERTY. " "The name of our new town, " said the colonel. But for the two on the rear seat it was more than the name of a town. Vaniman pressed the girl's trembling hand between his palms. They lookedat each other through the lenses of grateful tears. Just inside the arch stood Prophet Elias, welcoming all comers. He hadput off his robe and had laid aside his fantastic umbrella. He worethe sober garb of a dominic, and his face, above his tie of white lawn, displayed shrewd and complete appreciation of the occasion. He took off his hat and bowed low when Colonel Wincott's party passedunder the arch. And this sonorous proclamation followed Frank and Vona: "'And I will bring the blind by a way that they knew not; I will leadthem in paths that they have not known; I will make darkness lightbefore them, and crooked things straight. These things will I do untothem, and not forsake them. '" "Amen!" responded Colonel Wincott, fervently. The two persons on the rear seat did not speak. In silence they hadreverently prostrated themselves at a shrine of thanksgiving in theirsouls.