The trip was cold and long and tedious. The oaks and birches were bare
of leaves and the lakes and little ponds looked chill and forbidding.
Judah's prophecy of a clear day was only partially fulfilled, for there
were great patches of clouds driving before the wind and when those
obscured the sun all creation looked dismal enough, especially to
Kendrick, who was in the mood where any additional gloom was distinctly
superfluous. But the Foam Flake jogged on and at last drew up beside the
Bradley office.
Another horse and buggy were standing there and the captain was somewhat
surprised to recognize the outfit as one belonging to the Bayport livery
man. A gangling youth in the latter's employ was on the buggy seat and
he recognized the Foam Flake first and his driver next.
"Why, good mornin', Cap'n," hailed the youth. "You over here, too?"
Sears, performing the purely perfunctory task of hitching the Foam Flake
to a post, smiled grimly.
"No, Josiah," he replied. "I'm not here. I'm over in South Harniss all
this week. Where are you?"
"Eh?... Where be I?... Say, what----"
"Yes, yes, Josiah, all right. Just keep a weather eye on this post, will
you, like a good fellow?"
"On the post? On the horse, you mean?"
"No, I mean on the post. If you don't this--er--camel of mine will eat
it. Thanks. Do as much for you some time, Josiah."
He went into the building, leaving the bewildered Josiah in what might
be described as a state of mind.
"Is the commodore busy?" he asked of the boy at the desk.
"Yes, he is," replied the boy. "But he won't be very long, I don't
think."
"Humph! That's what you don't think, eh? Well, now just between us, what
do you think?... Never mind, son, never mind, I'm satisfied if you are.
I'll wait. By the way, somebody from my home port is in there with him,
I judge."
"Um--hm. Miss Berry, she's there."
"Miss Berry! Elizabeth Berry?... Is she there now?"
The boy nodded. "Um-hm," he declared, "she's there, but I guess they're
'most done. I heard her chair scrape a minute or two ago, so I think
she's comin' right out."
Kendrick rose from his own chair. "I'll wait outside," he said, and went
out to the platform again. Josiah, evidently lonely and seeking
conversation, hailed him at once.
"Say, that old horse of yours _is_ a cribbler, ain't he," he observed.
"He's took one chaw out of that post already."
Sears paid no attention. He walked around to the rear of the little
building and, leaning against its shingled side, waited, gazing absently
across the fields to the spires and roofs of Orham village.
He was sorry that Elizabeth was there just at this time. True they met
almost daily at the Fair Harbor office, but those meetings were
obligatory, this was not. And meeting her at all, relations between them
being what they were, was very hard for him. Since George Kent's
disclosure of his feelings and hopes those meetings were harder still.
Each one made his task, that of helping the boy toward the realization
of those hopes, so much more difficult. He was ashamed of himself, but
so it was. No, in his present frame of mind he did not want to meet her.
He would wait there, out of sight, until she had gone.
But he was not allowed to do so. He heard the office door open, heard
her step--he would have recognized it, he believed, anyway--upon the
platform. He heard her speak to Josiah. And then that pest of an office
boy began shouting his name.
"Cap'n Kendrick," yelled the boy. "Cap'n Kendrick, where are you?"
He did not answer, but the other imbecile, Josiah, answered for him.
"There he is, out alongside the buildin'," volunteered Josiah. "Cap'n
Kendrick, they want ye."
Then both began shrieking "Cap'n Kendrick" at the top of their voices.
To pretend not to hear would have been too ridiculous. There was but
thing to do and he did it.
"Aye, aye," he answered, impatiently. "I'm comin'!"
When he reached the platform Elizabeth was still there. She was
surprised to see him, evidently, but there was another expression on her
face, an expression which he did not understand. He bowed gravely.
"Good mornin'," he said. She returned his greeting, but still she
continued to look at him with that odd expression.
"Mr. Bradley's all ready for you," announced the office boy, who was
holding the door open. Sears' foot was at the 'threshold when Elizabeth
spoke his name. He turned to her in surprise.
"Yes?" he replied.
For an instant she was silent. Then, as if obeying an uncontrollable
impulse, she came toward him.
"Cap'n Kendrick," she said. "May I speak with you? In private? I won't
keep you but a moment."
"Why--why, yes, of course," he stammered. He turned to the office boy.
"Go and tell Mr. Bradley I'll be right there," he commanded. The boy
went.
Elizabeth spoke to her charioteer, who was leaning forward on the buggy
seat, his small eyes fixed upon the pair and his large mouth open.
"Drive over to that corner, Josiah," she said. "To that store
there--yes, that's it. And wait there for me. I'll come at once."
Josiah reluctantly drove away. Elizabeth turned again to Kendrick.
"Cap'n Kendrick," she began. "I shan't keep you long. I realize that
you must be surprised at my asking to speak with you--after everything.
And, of course, I realize still more than you can't possibly wish to
speak with me."
He attempted to say something, to protest, but she did not give him the
chance.
"No, don't, don't," she said, hurriedly. "Don't pretend. I know how you
feel, of course. But I have been wanting to tell you this for a long
time. I hadn't the courage, or I was too much ashamed, or something. And
this is a strange place to say it--and time. But when I saw you just now
I--I felt as if I must say it. I couldn't wait another minute. Cap'n
Kendrick, I want to beg your pardon."
To add to his amazement and embarrassed distress he saw that she was
very close to tears.
"Why--why--" he stammered.
"Don't say anything. There isn't anything for _you_ to say. I don't ask
you to forgive me--you couldn't, of course. But I--I just had to tell
you that I am so ashamed of myself, of my misjudging you, and the things
I said to you. I know that you were right and I was all wrong."
"Why--why, here, hold on!" he broke in. "I don't understand."
"Of course you don't. And I can't explain. Probably I never can and you
mustn't ask me to. But--but--I had to say this. I had to beg your pardon
and tell you how ashamed I am.... That's all.... Thank you."
She turned and almost ran from the platform, down the steps and across
the street to the waiting buggy. Sears Kendrick stared after her, stared
until that buggy disappeared around the bend in the road. Then he
breathed heavily, straightened his cap, slowly shook his head, and
entered the lawyer's office. He was still in a sort of trance when he
sat down in the chair in the inner room and heard Bradley bid him good
morning. He returned the good morning, but he heard, or understood, very
little of what the lawyer said immediately afterward. When he did begin
vaguely to comprehend he found the latter was speaking of Elizabeth
Berry.
"I wish I knew what her trouble is," Bradley was saying. "She won't tell
me, won't even admit that there is any trouble, but that doesn't need
telling. The last half dozen times I have seen her she has seemed and
looked worried and absent-minded. And this morning she drove way over
here to ask me some almost childish questions about her investments, the
money the judge left her. Wanted to know if it was safe, or something
like that. She didn't admit that was it, exactly, but that was as near
as I could get to what she was driving at. Do you know what's troubling
her, Kendrick?"
Sears shook his head. "No-o," he replied. "I've heard--but no, I don't
know. She wanted to be sure her money was safe, you say?"
"Why, not safely invested, I don't think that was it. She seemed to want
to know what I'd done with the bonds themselves and the other securities
of hers. I told her they were in the deposit vaults over at the Bayport
bank; that is, some of them were there and some of them were in the bank
at Harniss. Then she asked if any one could get them, anybody except she
or I. Of course I told her no, and not even I without an order from her.
She seemed a little relieved, I thought, but when _I_ asked questions
she shut up like a quahaug. But that seemed a silly errand to come away
over here on. Don't you think so, Cap'n? ... Eh? What's the matter? What
are you looking at me like that for?"
The captain _was_ looking at him, was looking with an expression of
intense and eager interest. He did not answer Bradley's question, but
asked one, himself.
"Did she ask anything more about--well, about her bonds?" he demanded.
"Think now; I'll tell you why by and by."
The lawyer considered. "No-o," he said. "Nothing of importance, surely.
She asked--she seemed to want to know particularly if it was possible
for any one except the owner or a duly accredited representative to get
at securities in the vaults of those banks. That seemed to be the
information she was after.... Now what have you got up your sleeve?"
"Nothin'--nothin'. I guess. Or somethin', maybe; I don't know. Bradley,
would you mind tellin' me this much: Of course I'm not Elizabeth's
trustee any more, but would it be out of the way if you told me whether
or not you reinvested any of her twenty thousand in City of Boston
bonds? City of Boston 4-1/2s; say?"
Bradley did not answer for a moment. Then from a pigeon hole in his desk
he took a packet of papers and selected one.
"Yes," he said, gravely. "I put ten thousand of her money in those very
bonds. My brokers up in Boston recommended them strongly as being a safe
and good investment.... And now perhaps you'll tell us why you asked
about that?"
Sears' brows drew together. Here was his vague theory on the way, at
least, to confirmation.
"You tell me somethin' more first," he said. "'Tisn't likely you've got
the numbers of those bonds on that piece of paper, is it?"
"Likely enough. I've got the numbers and the price I paid for 'em. Why?"
Kendrick took his memorandum book from his pocket. "Were two of those
numbers A610,312 and A610,313?" he asked.
Bradley consulted his slip of paper. "No," he replied. "Nothing like
it."
"Eh? You're sure?"
"Of course I'm sure. Say, what sort of a trustee do you think I am?"
Sears did not answer. If the lawyer was sure, then his "theory," instead
of being confirmed, was smashed flat.
"Humph!" he grunted, after a moment. "Do you mind my lookin' at that
paper of yours?"
Bradley pushed the slip across the desk. The captain looked at it
carefully. "Humph!" he said again. "You're right. And those are five
hundred dollar bonds, all of 'em. Well, that settles that. And now it's
all fog again.... Humph! In a way I'm glad--but---- Pshaw!"
"Yes. And _now_ maybe you'll tell me what you're after? Don't you think
it's pretty nearly time?"
"Why, perhaps, but I'm afraid that's what I can't tell--you or anybody
else.... Bradley, just one more thing. Do you happen to know whether
there was any of those Boston bonds in Lobelia Phillips' estate? That
is, did any of 'em come to her husband from her?"
The lawyer's answer was emphatic enough.
"Yes, I do know," he said. "There wasn't any. Those bonds are a brand
new issue. They have been put out since her death."
Here was another gun spiked. Kendrick whistled. Bradley regarded him
keenly.
"Cap'n," he demanded, "are you on the trail of that Eg Phillips? Do you
really think you've got anything on him? Because if you have and you
don't let me into the game I'll never forgive you. Of all the slick,
smooth, stuck-up nothings that---- Say, have you?"
Kendrick shook his head. "I'm afraid not, Squire," he observed. "And, at
any rate, I couldn't tell you, if I had. ... Eh? And _now_ what?"
For the lawyer had suddenly struck the desk a blow with his hand. He was
fumbling in another pigeon-hole and extracting therefrom another packet
of papers.
"Cap'n Kendrick," he said, "I know where there are--or were,
anyhow--more of those Boston 4-1/2s."
"Eh? You do?"
"Yes. And they were thousand dollar bonds, too.... Yes, and.... Give me
those numbers again."
Sears gave them. Bradley grinned, triumphantly.
"Here you are," he exclaimed. "Five one thousand dollar City of Boston
4-1/2s, bought at so and so much, on such and such a date, numbered
A610,309 to A610,313 inclusive. Cap'n Sears, those bonds are--or were,
the last I knew--in the vault of the Bayport National Bank."
Kendrick rose to his feet. "You don't tell me!" he cried. "Who put 'em
there?"
"I put 'em there. And I bought 'em. But they don't belong to me. There
was somebody else had money left to them, and I, on request, invested it
for the owner. Now you can guess, can't you?"
Cap'n Sears sat down heavily. "Cordelia?" he exclaimed. "Cordelia Berry,
of course!... Bradley, what an everlastin' fool I was not to guess it
in the first place! _There's_ the answer I've been hunting for."
But, as he pondered over it during the long drive home he realized that,
after all, it was not by any means a completely satisfying answer. True
it confirmed his previous belief that the bonds which Phillips had
deposited with the New York brokers were not a part of the residue of
his wife's estate. He had obtained them from Cordelia Berry. But the
question as to how and why he had obtained them still remained. Did he
get them by fraud? Did she lend them to him? If she lent them was it a
loan without restrictions? Did she know what he meant to do with them;
that is, was Cordelia a silent partner in Egbert's stock speculations?
Or, and this was by no means impossible considering her infatuation, had
she given them to him outright?
Unless there was an element of fraud or false pretense in the
transference of those bonds, the mere knowledge of whence they came was
not likely to help in regaining George Kent's sixteen hundred dollars.
For the matter of that, even if they had been obtained by fraud, if they
were not Phillips' property, but Cordelia's, still the return of Kent's
money might be just as impossible provided Phillips had nothing of his
own to levy upon. He--Kendrick--might compel the brokers to return Mrs.
Berry's City of Boston 4-1/2s to their rightful owner, but how would
that help Kent?
Well, never mind that now. If the worst came to the worst he could still
borrow the eight hundred which would save George from public disgrace.
And the fact remained that his campaign against the redoubtable Egbert
had made, for the first time, a forward movement, however slight.
His thoughts turned to Elizabeth. The causes of her worry and trouble
were plain enough now. Esther Tidditt had declared that she and Phillips
were by no means as friendly as they had been. Of course not. She, too,
had been forced to realize what almost every one else had seen before,
the influence which the fellow had obtained over her mother. Her visit
to Bradley and her questions concerning the safety of securities in the
bank's vaults were almost proof positive that she knew Egbert had those
bonds and perhaps feared he might get the others. He should not get them
if Sears Kendrick could help it. She had asked his pardon, she had
confessed that he was right and that she had been wrong. She believed in
him again. Well, in return he would fight his battle--and hers--and
George's--harder than ever. The fight had been worth while of itself,
now it was more than ever a fight for her happiness. And Egbert--by the
living jingo, Egbert was in for a licking.
So, to the mild astonishment of the placid Foam Flake, who had been
meandering on in a sort of walking doze, Captain Kendrick tugged briskly
at the reins and broke out in song, the hymn which Judah Cahoon had sung
a few nights before:
"Light in the darkness, sailor,
Day is at hand."
Judah himself was singing when his lodger entered the kitchen, but his
was no joyful ditty. It was a dirge, which he was intoning as he bent
over the cookstove. A slow and solemn and mournful wail dealing with
death and burial of one "Old Storm Along," whoever he may have been.
"'Old Storm Along is dead and gone
To my way, oh, Storm Along.
Old Storm Along is dead and gone
Ay--ay--ay, Mister Storm A-long.
"'When Stormy died I dug his grave
To my way, oh, Storm Along,
I dug his grave with a silver spade.
Ay--ay--ay, Mister Storm A-long.
"'I hove him up with an iron crane,
To my way, oh, Storm Along,
And lowered him down with----'"
Kendrick broke in upon the flow of misery.
"Sshh! All hands to the pumps!" he shouted. "Heavens, what a wail!
Sounds like the groans of the dyin'. Didn't your breakfast set well,
Judah?"
Judah turned, looked at him, and grinned sheepishly. "'Tis kind of a
lonesome song, ain't it?" he admitted. "Still we used to sing it
consider'ble aboard ship. Don't you know we did, Cap'n?"
The captain grunted. "Maybe so," he observed, "but it's one of the
things that would keep the average man from going to sea. What's the
news since I've been gone--anything?"
Judah nodded. "Um-hm," he said. "I cal'late 'twas the news that set me
goin' about old Storm Along. Esther Tidditt's been over here half the
forenoon, seemed so, tellin' about Elviry Snowden's aunt over to
Ostable. She's dead, the old woman is, and she died slow and agonizin',
'cordin' to Esther. Elviry was all struck of a heap about it. And now
she's gone."
"Gone! Elvira? Dead, you mean?"
"Hey? No, no! The aunt's dead, but Elviry ain't. She's gone over to
Ostable to stay till after the funeral. She's about the only relation to
the remains there is left, so Esther tells me. There was a reg'lar young
typhoon over to the Harbor when the news struck. 'Twas too late for the
up train so they had to hire a horse and team and then somebody had to
be got to pilot it, 'cause Elviry wouldn't no more undertake to drive a
horse than I would to eat one. And the trouble was that the livery
stable boy--that Josiah Ellis--was off drivin' somebody else
somewheres."
"Yes, I saw him."
"Hey? You did? Where? Who was he drivin'?"
"Never mind that. Heave ahead with your yarn."
"Well, the next thing they done was to come cruisin' over here to see if
_I_ wouldn't take the job. Hoppin', creepin', jumpin' Henry! I shut down
on _that_ notion almost afore they got their hatches open to tell me
about it. Suppose likely I'd set in a buggy alongside of Elviry Snowden
and listen to her clack from here to Ostable? Not by a two-gallon
jugful! Creepin'! She'd have another corpse on her hands time we got
there. So I said I was sick."
"Sick! Ha, ha! You're a healthy lookin' sick man, Judah."
"Um-hm. Mine must be one of them kind of diseases that don't show on the
outside. But I was sick then, all right--at the very notion. And, Cap'n
Sears, who do you cal'late finally did invite himself to drive that
Snowden woman to Ostable? You'll never guess in _this_ world."
"Well, I don't intend to wait until the next world to find out; so
you'll have to tell me, Judah. Who was it?"
"Old Henfruit."
"_Who?_"
"Old Henfruit, that's what I call him. That Eg thing"
"What? Phillips?"
"Yus. That's the feller."
"But why should he do it?"
"Oh, just to show off how polite and obligin' he is, I presume likely.
Elviry she was snifflin' around and swabbin' her deadlights with her
handkercher and heavin' overboard lamentations about her poor dear Aunt
So-and-so layin' all alone over there and she couldn't get to her--as if
'twould make any difference to a dead person whether she got to 'em or
not, and anyhow I'd _want_ to be dead afore Elviry Snowden got to
me--and---- Oh, yes, well, pretty soon here comes Eg, beaver hat and
mustache and all, purrin' and wantin' to know what was the matter. And,
of course all hands of 'em started to tell him, 'specially that Aurora
Chase, who is so everlastin' deaf she hadn't heard the yarn more'n half
straight and wan't sure yet whether 'twas a funeral or a fire. And
so----"
"There, there, Judah! Get back on the course. So Egbert drove Elvira
over to Ostable, did he?"
"Sartin sure. When Elviry saw him she kind of flew at him same as a
chicken flies to the old hen. And he kind of spread out his wings, as
you might say, and comforted her and, next thing you know, he'd offered
to be pilot and she and him had started on the trip. So that's the
news.... Esther said 'twas good as a town hall to see Cordelia Berry
when them two went away together. You see, Cordelia is so dreadful gone
on that Eg man that she can't bear to see another female within hailin'
distance of him. Been just the same if 'twas old Northern Lights Chase
he'd gone with. Haw, haw!"
The Fair Harbor was still buzzing with the news of Miss Snowden's
bereavement when Kendrick visited there next day. The funeral was to
take place the day after that and Mrs. Brackett was going and so was
Aurora. As Miss Peasley and some of the others would have liked to go,
but could not afford the railway fare, there was some jealousy manifest
and a few ill-natured remarks made in the captain's hearing. Elvira, it
seemed, had sent for her trunk, as she was to remain in Ostable for a
week or two at least.
The captain and Elizabeth had their customary conference in the office
concerning the Harbor's bills and finances. Kendrick's greeting was a
trifle embarrassed--recollection of the interview at Orham was fresh in
his mind. Elizabeth colored slightly when they met, but she did not
mention that interview and, although pleasant and kind, kept the
conversation strictly confined to business matters.
That afternoon Sears encountered Egbert for the first time in a week or
so. The captain was on his way to the barn at the rear of the Harbor
grounds. He was about to turn the bend in the path, the bend which he
had rounded on the day of his first excursion in those grounds, and
which had afforded him the vision of Miss Snowden and Mrs. Chase framed
in the ivy-draped window of The Eyrie. As he passed the clump of lilacs,
now bare and scrawny, he came suddenly upon Phillips. The latter was
standing there, deep in conversation with Mrs. Berry. Theirs should, it
would seem, have been a pleasant conversation, but neither looked happy;
in fact, Cordelia looked as if she had been crying.
Sears raised his cap and Egbert lifted the tall hat with the flourish
all his own. Cordelia did not bow nor even nod. Kendrick, as he walked
on toward the barn, was inclined to believe he could guess the cause of
Mrs. Berry's distress and her companion's annoyance; he believed that
City of Boston 4-1/2s might be the subject of their talk. If so, then
perhaps those bonds had come into the gentleman's possession in a manner
not strictly within the law. Or, at all events, the lady might not know
what had become of them and be requesting their return. He certainly
hoped that such was the case. It was the one thing he yearned to find
out before making the next strategic advance in his and Egbert's private
war.
But a note from Bradley which he received next day helped him not at
all. It was a distinct disappointment. Bradley had, at his request, made
some inquiries at the Bayport bank. The lawyer was a director in that
institution and he could obtain information without arousing undue
curiosity or answering troublesome questions. The two one thousand
dollar bonds had been removed from the vaults by Cordelia Berry herself.
She had come alone, and on two occasions, taking one bond at each visit.
She did not state why she wanted them and the bank authorities had not
considered it their business to ask.
So that avenue of hope was closed. Egbert had not taken the bonds, and
how they came into his possession was still as great a puzzle as ever.
And the time--the time was growing so short. On Wednesday Kent had
promised to send his brother-in-law eight hundred dollars. It was
Saturday when Bradley's letter came. Each evening George stopped at the
Minot place to ask what progress had been made. The young man's
nervousness was contagious; the captain's own nerves became affected.
"George," he ordered, at last, "don't ask me another question. I
promised you once, and now I promise you again, that by Wednesday night
you shall have enough cash in hand to satisfy your sister and her
husband. Don't you come nigh me until then."
On Monday, the situation remaining unchanged, Sears determined upon a
desperate move. He would see Egbert alone and have a talk with him. He
had, after careful consideration, decided what his share in that talk
was to be. It must be two-thirds "bluff." He knew very little, but he
intended to pretend to much greater knowledge. He might trap his
adversary into a damaging admission. He might gain something and he
could lose almost nothing. The attack was risky, a sort of forlorn
hope--but he would take the risk.
That afternoon he drove down to the Macomber house. There he was
confronted with another disappointment. Egbert was not there. Sarah said
he had been away almost all day and would not be back until late in the
evening.
"He's been away consider'ble the last two or three days," she said. "No,
I'm sure I don't know where he's gone. He told Joel somethin' about
bein' out of town on business. Joel sort of gathered 'twas in Trumet
where the business was, but he never told either of us really. He wasn't
here for dinner yesterday or supper either, and not for supper the day
before that."
"Humph! Will he be here to-morrow, think?"
"I don't know, but I should think likely he would, in the forenoon,
anyhow. He's almost always here in the forenoon; he doesn't get up very
early, hardly ever."
"Oh, he doesn't. How about his breakfast?"
Mrs. Macomber looked a bit guilty.
"Well," she admitted, "I usually keep his breakfast hot for him,
and--and he has it in his room."
"You take it in to him, I suppose?"
"We-ll, he's always been used to breakfastin' that way, he says. It's
the way they do over abroad, accordin' to his tell."
"Oh, Sarah, Sarah!" mused her brother. "To think _you_ could slip so
easy on that sort of soft-soap. Tut, tut! I'm surprised.... Well,
good-by. Oh, by the way, how about his majesty's board bill? Paid up to
date, is it?"
His sister looked even more embarrassed, and, for her, a trifle
irritated.
"He owes me for three weeks, if you must know," she said, "but he'll pay
it, same as he always does."
"Look out, look out! Can't be too sure.... There, there, Sarah, don't be
cross. I won't torment you."
He laughed and Mrs. Macomber, after a moment, laughed too.
"You are a tease, Sears," she declared, "and always was. Shall I tell
Mr. Phillips you came to see him?"
"Eh? No, indeed you shan't. Don't you mention my name to him. He loves
me so much that he might cry all night at the thought of not bein' at
home when I called. Don't tell him a word. I'll try again."
The next forenoon he did try again. Judah had some trucking to do in the
western part of the village and the captain rode with him on the seat of
the truck wagon as far as the store. From there he intended to walk to
his sister's, for walking, even as long a distance as a mile, was no
longer an impossibility. As he alighted by the store platform Captain
Elkanah Wingate came out of the Bassett emporium.
"Mornin', Kendrick," he hailed.
Sears did not share Bayport's awe of the prosperous Elkanah. He returned
the greeting as casually as if the latter had been an everyday citizen.
"Been spendin' your money on Eliphalet's bargains?" he inquired.
The great man did not resent the flippancy. He seemed to be in a
particularly pleasant humor.
"Got a little extra to spend to-day," he declared, with a chuckle.
"Picked up twenty dollars this mornin' that I never expected to see
again."
"So? You're lucky."
"That's what I thought. Say, Kendrick, have you had any--hum--business
dealings with that man Phillips? No," with another chuckle, "I suppose
you haven't. He doesn't love you over and above, I understand. My wife
and the rest of the women folks seem to think he's first mate to Saint
Peter, but, between ourselves, he's always been a little too much of a
walkin' oil barrel to suit me. He borrowed twenty of me a good while ago
and I'd about decided to write it down as a dead loss. But an hour or so
ago he ran afoul of me and, without my saying a word, paid up like a
man, every cent. Had a roll of bills as thick as a skys'l yard, he did.
Must have had a lucky voyage, I guess. Eh? Ha, ha!"
He moved off, still chuckling. Kendrick walked down the lower road
pondering on what he had heard. Egbert, the professed pauper, in
possession of money and voluntarily paying his debts. What might that
mean?
Sarah met him at the door. She seemed distressed.
"There!" she cried, as he approached. "If this isn't too bad! And I was
afraid of it, too. You've walked way down here, Sears, on those poor
legs of yours, and Mr. Phillips has gone again. And I don't think he'll
be back before night, if he is then. He said not to worry if he wasn't,
because he might have to go to Trumet. Isn't it a shame?"
It was a shame and a rather desperate shame. This was Tuesday. If the
interview with Egbert was to take place at all, it should be that day,
or the next. He looked at his sister's face and something in her
expression caused him to ask a question.
"What is it, Sarah?" he demanded. "What's the rest of it?"
She hesitated. "Sears," she said, after looking over her shoulder to
make sure none of the children was within hearing, "there's somethin'
else. I--I don't know, but--but I'm almost _sure_ Mr. Phillips won't be
back to-night. I think he's gone to stay."
"Stay? What do you mean? Did he take his dunnage--his things--with him?"
"No. His trunk is in his room. And he didn't have a satchel or a valise
in his hand. But, Sears, I can't understand it--they're gone--his
valises are gone."
"Gone! Gone where?"
"I don't know. That's the funny part of it. He's always kept two valises
in his room, a big one and a little one. I went into his room just now
to make the beds and clean up and I didn't see those valises anywhere. I
thought that was funny and then I noticed that the things on his bureau,
his brushes and comb and things, weren't there. Then I looked in his
bureau drawers and everything was gone, the drawers were empty....
Sears, what _do_ you suppose it means?"
Her brother did not answer at once. He tugged at his beard and frowned.
Then he asked:
"Didn't he say a word more than you've told me? Or do anything?"
"No. He had his breakfast out here with us this mornin'. Then he went
back to his room and, about nine or so, he came out to me and paid his
board bill---- Oh, I told you he'd pay it, Sears; he always does
pay--and then----"
"Here! Heave to! Hold on, Sarah! He paid his bill, all of it?"
"Yes. Right up to now. That was kind of funny, bein' the middle of the
week instead of the end, but he said we might as well start with a clean
ledger, or somethin' nice and pleasant like that. Then he took a bundle
of money from his pocketbook--a great, _big_ bundle it was, and--Why,
why, Sears, what is it? Where are you goin'?"
The captain had pushed by her and was on his way to the front of the
house.
"Goin'?" he repeated. "I'm goin' to have a look at those rooms of his.
You'd better come with me, Sarah."