THE FOX WHO WAS RUN TO EARTH
Vaniman's first impulse was to overtake the fugitive. He wanted to have
Britt in his grip, holding to him, forcing him to confess and restore.
But when Britt reached the highway and started in the direction of the
village, saner second thought controlled the pursuer. Britt had become
a self-operating proposition; Vaniman felt that, although sudden fright
were spurring Britt, a fear more inherently characteristic was pulling
the usurer on his race to the village--he had betrayed the hiding place
of hard cash! He was rushing to protect it. By running to the treasure
Britt would be betraying something of more moment to Vaniman than gold.
The young man kept his distance, keeping the quarry in sight, running a
few feet behind Britt in the fog.
In the mist the two were like the flitting figures of a fantasy. The
road was still well filled with wains and pedestrians, following after
those who had gone on ahead. The wains stopped; the pedestrians halted
and gaped and gasped. Women cried out shrilly. Vaniman and Britt
furnished an uncanny spectacle. The eyes which beheld them saw them only
for an instant; the fog's curtain allowed each observer scant time to
determine what these figures were. Britt, hairless, his face sickly
white, his night gear fluttering, was as starkly bodeful as if he were
newly risen from the grave, garbed in death's cerements. Vaniman's
presence on the scene added to the terrifying illusion produced by
Britt.
This pursuer had been officially proclaimed dead. They who beheld
believed they saw a dead man. The face was smutched with blood. The eyes
were wide and were set straight ahead. Vaniman was taking no chances on
losing 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 those
who had turned in their tracks and were following the phantoms of the
night.
In this fashion, with the rout and rabble behind and Vaniman close on
his heels, Tasper Britt arrived at Britt Block--and even the statue in
its 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 of
them were carrying the lanterns which they had used to light the way of
the procession of carts.
Britt did not enter his office; he ran the length of the corridor and
flung open the door which led to the basement. The pursuers kept on at
the heels of Vaniman. But they took the precaution to allow the men with
the lanterns to go ahead.
Britt went frantically at his work, paying no attention to anybody. In
fact, he did not seem to realize that others were present. There was a
heap of furnace wood in one corner of the basement; he began to heave
that wood in all directions. One of the lanterns was smashed by a
billet. 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 hell
fire to make me tell. They brought a dead man. But they sha'n't have
it.”
“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 influences
which did not seem to partake wholly of human qualities.
In their concentrated interest in the active Britt they had been
disregarding Vaniman, who was restraining himself, standing outside the
radiance of the lanterns.
The next instant he leaped into the sight of all of them. He stood
between them and Britt. He pulled his weapons. His blood-spotted face
seemed a vision of the unreal; but the guns were unmistakably the
agents which a human being would employ in an emergency. And there was a
businesslike click in his tone. “Stand back, the whole of you! This is a
show-down. Tasper Britt is confessing that he is a thief and a liar. Use
your 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. They
saw him locate an iron ring that was cunningly concealed under a little
square of concrete which he pried up with his finger nails. He tugged at
the 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 in
from the outside. It was Squire Amos Hexter. It was hard to determine
from his expression which spectacle he found the more astounding--Frank
Vaniman at bay, in the flesh, or the gold coins that Tasper Britt was
dipping with both hands, sluicing them upon the concrete in jingling
showers.
Squire Hexter did find his voice. “Good God!” he shouted.
“God is good!” said Vaniman. He threw the weapons into a far corner of
the basement. “Squire Hexter, take charge of this thing. Here are plenty
of witnesses.”
The Squire went forward slowly. His lips moved without the sound of
spoken word. He set the clutch of his hands on Vaniman's arms. He stared
long 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 there
was something for that case better than words. He put his arms around
Vaniman and kissed him. “Come along home with me to Xoa, sonny.”
Britt struggled to his feet, and groaned when his weight came on the
tortured flesh. He looked about as if searching for something. “A
basket!” 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 his
utterance was not clear. “Take it back to Tophet with you! I didn't mean
to keep it. I didn't know how to give it back. I took it so that they'd
pen you up, out from under my feet. But even a thousand tons of rock
can'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 attend
to him after a little while.” The Squire pulled himself together with
the air of one who saw that the situation needed a commander. He singled
responsible men from the crowd and ordered them to take charge of the
coin.
“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'll
let him alone,” insisted the Squire. “There'll be no use in asking him
questions till he's in his right mind. He'll probably get back his wits
when 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, Vaniman
perceived that there was a gray hint of dawn in the heavens. More
acutely was he wondering what this universal vigil in Egypt signified.
But reaction had overtaken him. He was in the mood to accept commands of
any 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 until
Xoa flung wide the door. Supported in her embrace, he staggered into the
sitting room.
“Cry, sonny! Cry a little,” the Squire adjured him. “Put your head on
Xoa's knee and have it out. It will tide you over till your own mother
can comfort you.”
But wild desire for knowledge burned the sudden tears out of Vaniman's
eyes. “Where is Vona? What is happening?”
“We'll see to it mighty quick that Vona knows, sonny. The right word
must get to her in the right way. Mother will know how. Mother, you'd
better attend to it.”
She agreed with that suggestion, but first she brought a basin and water
and soft cloths and solicitously made more presentable the young man's
face.
While she ministered to him he told them what had been happening in his
affairs.
“You're alive. That's the main point. Now, Xoa,” urged the Squire, “go
to 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 which
some of the old notary's whimsical humor began to creep. “So it struck
you, did it, that you had dropped back into town on a lively night? I
was expecting quite a general stir, myself. But I'll confess that the
thing hit me as livelier than what I had looked for when I was sitting
here and heard a man holler outside that your ghost had chased Tasper
Britt into his office. You see, the plan was not to have Tasper
disturbed by any human beings this night. We all hoped he would sleep
sound. Everybody proposed to tiptoe when passing in the neighborhood of
the Harnden house. But to have a ghost come and chase Tasper around town
was wholly outside the calculations of the human beings in Egypt this
night.”
“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 those
gods on high Olympus is big enough and broad-minded enough to be able to
laugh at it. Some day the folks of this town will be able to look
back on this night and laugh, I do hope. But not now. They're too much
wrought up. They're too busy. Hold on! I'm going to let another man
explain the thing. He's in a position to pass out information more to
the point than anything I can hand you. I'll simply say this. When you
saw what you beheld in the fog this night, you were seeing a revised
version of the Book of Exodus acted out in real life. The Children of
Israel, of this day and date, are departing from the land of Pharaoh,
current edition. With their flocks and their possessions, their wives
and their children, they are on their way to The Promised Land. And
now, if you'll step into the parlor with me I'll introduce you to the
promiser.”
Vaniman followed