The keeper of the livery stable was surprised. "Why, yes," he said, "Mr.
Phillips was here a spell ago. He said he was cal'latin' to go to Trumet
to-day on a business cruise, and he hired Josiah and the bay horse and
buggy to get him over there. They left about ten o'clock, I should say
'twas. I had a mind to ask him why he didn't take the train, but then I
thought 'twould be poor business for a fellow that let teams, so I kept
still. Hey? Ho, ho!"
The captain, somewhat out of breath after his hurried walk from the
Macomber home to the stable, pondered a moment "Did he have a valise or
satchel or anything with him?" he asked.
"No. Nothin' but his cane. Couldn't navigate a yard without his cane
that feller couldn't, seemed so. Looked kind of spruced up, too. Dressed
in his best bib and tucker, he was, beaver hat and all. Cal'late he must
be goin' to see his best girl, eh. Ho, ho! Guess not though; from what I
hear his best girl's down to the Fair Harbor."
Kendrick pondered a moment longer.
"Did he pay for the team?" he inquired.
"Hey? Yus, paid in advance, spot cash. But what you askin' all this for,
Cap'n? Wanted to see him afore he went, did you?"
Sears nodded. "Just a business matter," he explained, and walked away.
He did not walk far, only to the corner. There on the low stone wall
bordering on the east the property of Captain Orrin Eldridge, he seated
himself to rest and cogitate.
His cogitations were most unsatisfactory. They got him nowhere. He and
his sister had pretty thoroughly inspected Egbert's quarters at the
Macomber house. The Phillips trunk was still there, and the "horse
pictures" and the photographs of Lobelia's charming lady friends! but
there was precious little else. Toilet articles, collars, ties and more
intimate articles of wearing apparel were missing and, except for a
light coat and a summer suit of clothes, the closets were empty. And, as
Sarah had said, the two valises had vanished. Egbert had told his
landlady he was going to Trumet; he had told the livery man the same
thing. But by far the easiest way to reach Trumet was by train. Why had
he chosen to be driven there over a long and very bad road? And _what_
had become of the valises?
And then occurred the second of a series of incidents which had a marked
and helpful bearing up Captain Kendrick's actions that day. He said
afterwards that, for the first time since his railway accident, he
really began to believe the tide of luck was turning in his direction.
The first of those incidents had been his meeting and talk with Captain
Elkanah. That had sent him hurrying to the Macombers' earlier than he
intended. The second incident was that now, as he sat there on the
Eldridge wall, down the road came the Minot truck wagon with the Foam
Flake in the shafts and Judah Cahoon swinging and jolting on the seat.
Judah spied him and hailed.
"Ahoy, there, Cap'n Sears!" he shouted, pulling the old horse to a
standstill. "Thought you was down to Sary's long ago. What you doin' on
that wall--gone to roost so early in the day?"
The captain smiled. "Not exactly, Judah," he replied. "But what are you
doin' 'way back here? I thought you were haulin' Seth Bangs's wood for
him."
"Huh!" in disgust; "I thought I was, too, but there was some kind of
mix-up in the time. Cal'late 'twas that Hannah Bangs that muddled
it--she could muddle a cake of ice, that woman. Kind of born with a
knack for makin' mistakes, she is; and she's the biggest mistake
herself, 'cordin' to my notion. Seems 'twas to-morrow, not to-day, Seth
expected me to come."
"Humph! So you had your cruise up there for nothin'?"
"Yus. Creepin', jumpin'! Think of it, Cap'n. I navigated this
old--er--er--spavin-rack 'way up to where them folks live, three mile on
the Denboro road 'tis, and then had to come about and beat for home
again. I ... Oh, say I sighted a chum of ours up along that way. Who do
you cal'late 'twas, Cap'n Sears? Old Eg, that's who. Togged out from
truck to keelson as usual, beaver and all, and----"
"Here! Hold up! What's that, Judah? You saw Phillips up on the Denboro
road, you say? What was he doin' there? When did you see him?"
"'Bout an hour ago, or such matter. He was aboard one of the livery
stable teams and that Josiah Ellis was pilotin' him. I sung out to
Josiah, but he never answered. Says I----"
"Sshh! Where were they bound; do you know?"
"Denboro, I presume likely. That's the only place there is to be bound
to, on that road; 'less you're goin' perchin' up to Seabury's Pond, and
folks don't do much perchin' in December. Not with beaver hats on,
anyhow. Haw, haw! Eg and Josiah was all jammed up together on the buggy
seat, with two big valises crammed in alongside of 'em, and ... Hi!
What's the matter, Cap'n Sears? What's your hurry?"
The captain did not answer. He _was_ hurrying--hurrying back to the
livery stable. Half an hour later he, too, was on the seat of a hired
buggy, driving the best horse the stable afforded up the lonely road
leading to Denboro.
He met no one on that road--which winds and twists over the hills and
through the wooded hollows from one side of the Cape to the other--until
he was within a mile of Denboro village. Then he saw another horse and
buggy approaching his. He recognized the occupant of that buggy long
before he himself was recognized.
"Hi!" he shouted, as the two vehicles came near each other. "Hi! Josiah!
Josiah Ellis!"
Josiah, serenely dozing, his feet propped against the dash and his cap
over his eyes, came slowly to life.
"Hey?" he murmured, drowsily. "Yes; here I be.... Eh! What's the matter?
Why, hello, Cap'n Kendrick, that you?"
"Whoa!" ordered the captain, addressing his own horse, who came to a
standstill beside that driven by the other. "Stop, Josiah! Come up into
the wind a minute, I want to speak to you. What have you done with
Phillips?"
Josiah was surprised. "Why, how did you know I had Mr. Phillips aboard?"
he asked. "Oh, I presume likely they told you at the stable. But how did
you know he was goin' to Denboro? _I_ never knew it till after we
started. When we left port I supposed 'twas Trumet we was bound for, but
we hadn't much more'n got under way when Mr. Phillips says he's changed
his mind and wants to come over here. Didn't make no difference to _me_,
of course. I get my wages, Saturday nights, just the same whether----"
"Where is Phillips now?"
"I was tellin' you. So we came about and headed for Denboro. Next thing
we had to haul up abreast of that old tumbledown shed at the end of
Tabby Crosby's lot there by the meetin'-house while Mr. Phillips hopped
out and got a couple of great big satchels he'd left there. Big as
trunks they was, pretty nigh, and time he got them stowed in here there
wan't no room for knees nor feet nor nawthin' else seurcely. But,
finally----"
"Hold on! Why did he have his dunnage in Tabitha Crosby's shed?"
"That's what _I_ couldn't make out. He said he left 'em there so's not
to have to go out of our way to get 'em at Joe Macomber's. But it's
about as nigh to Joe's as 'tis to Tabby's, seems to me. Seemed funny
enough, that did, but 'twan't no funnier than comin' way over to the
Denboro depot to take the same train he might have took just as well at
Bayport. _I_ couldn't make it out. Can you, Cap'n Kendrick?"
"Did you leave him at the Denboro depot?"
"Yus. 'Bout an hour ago, or such matter. And the up train ain't due till
four, and it's only half-past twelve now. I stopped at the Denboro House
to get some diner. A feller has to eat once in a while, even if he ain't
rich. And talk about chargin' high prices! All I had was some chowder
and a piece of pie and tea, and I swan if they didn't stick me
thirty-five cents! Yes, sir, thirty-five cents! And the pie was
dried-apple at that. Don't talk to me no more about that Denboro House!
If I ever----"
Kendrick heard no more. He was on his way to the railway station at
Denboro. The mystery of the valises was, in one way, explained; in
another it was more mysterious than ever. Evidently Phillips must have
taken them from his rooms either early that morning or during the
night--probably the latter--and hidden them in the Crosby shed. But why?
Denboro was a sleepy little village and at that hour on that raw
December day the railway station was as sleepy as the rest of it. The
station agent, who was also the telegraph operator, was locking his door
preparatory to going home for dinner. He and the captain were old
acquaintances. In days gone by he had sailed as second mate aboard a
bark which Kendrick commanded. Now, retired from the sea, he was depot
master and pound-keeper and constable in his native town. And, like most
of Sears' shipmates, he was glad to see his former skipper.
They shook hands, exchanged observations concerning the weather, and
then the depot master asked what he could do for his friend.
"I'm lookin' for a man named Phillips," explained Kendrick. "Josiah
Ellis--fellow that drives for the livery stable over home--told me he
left him here at your depot, Jim. About an hour ago, Josiah said it was.
He doesn't seem to be here now; do you know where he's gone?"
Jim rubbed his chin. "Tall feller, thin, long mustache, beaver hat,
talks important and patronizin' like a combination of Admiral Farragut
and the Angel Gabriel?" he inquired.
"That's the man."
"He was here. Left them two valises yonder in my care. He's comin' back
in time to take the three-fifteen."
"Three-fifteen? I thought the up train left here at half-past four or
somethin' like that."
"The reg'lar train does. But there's a kind of combination, three or
four freight and one passenger car, that comes up from Hyannis and goes
on ahead of the other. It don't go only to Middleboro. He said he was
cal'latin' to take that. I had a notion he was goin' to change at
Middleboro and go somewheres else from there."
"I see. Yes, yes. And you don't know where he is now?"
"Well, he asked where was the best place to eat and I told him some went
to the hotel and some to Amanda Warren's boardin'-house. 'Most of 'em
only go to the hotel once, though,' says I. I guess likely you'll find
him at Amanda's."
So to Mrs. Warren's boarding-house the captain drove. The lady herself
opened the door for him. Yes, the gentleman described had been there.
Yes, he had eaten dinner and gone.
"Do you know where he has gone?" asked Kendrick.
Mrs. Warren nodded. "He asked me where Mr. Backus, the Methodist
minister, lived," she said. "He was real particular to find out how to
get there, so I guess that's where he was bound."
The Methodist minister! Why on earth Egbert Phillips should go to the
home of a minister was another mystery beyond Sears Kendrick's power of
surmise. However, he too inquired the way to the Backus domicile and
once more took up the chase.
The Methodist parsonage was a neat little white house, green-shuttered,
and with a white picket fence inclosing its little front yard. It being
the home of a clergyman, Sears ventured to knock at the front door;
otherwise he would, of course, have gone around to the side entrance.
A white-haired little woman answered the knock. No, Mr. Backus was out,
but he was expected back very soon. He had an appointment at two, so she
was sure he would be in by that time. Would the captain come in and
wait? There was another gentleman now in the parlor waiting. Yes, a tall
gentleman with a mustache.
At last! Another minute, and Captain Kendrick, entering the Backus
parlor, came face to face with the elusive object of his search, Mr.
Egbert Phillips.
Egbert was sitting in a rocking chair by the marble-topped center table.
A plush-covered photograph album was on that table and he was languidly
turning its pages and inspecting, with a smile of tolerant amusement,
the likenesses of the Backus friends and relatives. As the door opened
he turned, his smile changing to one of greeting.
"Ah, Mr. Backus----" he began. And then he stopped. It was the captain
who smiled now. His smile was as genial as a summer morn.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Phillips," he said. "How are you, sir?"
He stepped forward with extended hand. Still Egbert stood and stared.
The photograph album, imperfectly balanced on the edge of the table,
slipped to the floor.
The clergyman's wife seemed a trifle puzzled and perturbed by the
Phillips expression and attitude.
"This gentleman said----" she began. "He said you and he----"
Kendrick helped her to finish: "I told the lady," he put in cheerfully,
"that I had come 'way over from Bayport to see you about a little
matter. I said we knew each other pretty well and I was sure you'd be
glad to see me, even if I was kind of unexpected.... Excuse me, but
you've dropped your picture book."
He stooped, picked up the album and replaced it on the table. This
action occupied but a moment of time, nevertheless in that moment a
portion at least of Egbert's poise returned. His smile might have been
a bit uncertain, but it was a smile. And when Sears again extended his
hand his own came to meet it.
"Of course, of course," he said. "Yes--ah--yes, indeed. How do you do,
Kendrick?"
The captain beamed. "Oh, I'm feelin' tip-top," he declared. "The sight
of you is enough to make me well, even if I was sick--which I'm not. Now
if you and I might have a little talk?"
Mrs. Backus was anxious to oblige.
"You make yourselves right at home in here," she said. "If my husband
comes I'll tell him to wait until you're through. Take all the time you
want."
She was at the threshold, but Phillips detained her.
"Pardon me," he said, hastily, "but we mustn't abuse your hospitality to
that extent. This--ah--gentleman and I can talk just as well out of
doors. Really, I----"
"Oh, no! You must stay right here. Please do. It isn't the least
trouble."
She went and the door closed behind her. Egbert glanced at the clock on
the mantel and frowned. Captain Kendrick continued to smile.
"And here we are at last," he observed. "Quiet and sociable as you
please. Sit down, Mr. Phillips, sit down."
But Egbert did not sit. He glanced at the clock once more and then at
his watch.
"Sit down," repeated the captain. "I've been cruisin' so much this
forenoon that I'm glad of the chance to sit. From what I've been able to
learn you've been movin' pretty lively, too. A little rest won't do
either of us any harm. Sit down, Mr. Phillips. Take the rocker."
Phillips walked to the front window, looked out, hesitated, and then,
returning, did take the rocker. He looked at his fellow-townsman.
"Well?" he asked.
Kendrick nodded. "Yes," he agreed, "it is well, real well, now that I've
caught up with you. I'll say this for you, you're as good a craft for
leavin' a crooked wake as any I ever chased. For a while there you had
me hull down. But I'm here now--and so are you."
Egbert's slim hand slowly stroked his mustache.
"There appears to be some truth in that remark," he declared. "We do
seem to be here--yes.... But----"
"But you are wonderin' why _I_ am here? Well, to be honest, I came to
find you. I judged that you were thinkin' of leavin' us--for a spell,
anyhow--and before you went I wanted to talk with you, that's all."
A pause, and more mustache stroking. The two men regarded each other;
the captain blandly beaming, Phillips evidently pondering.
"I don't know," he said, at last, "what you may mean by my thinking of
leaving you. However, that is not material, and I am always delighted to
see you, of course. But as I am rather busy this afternoon perhaps
you'll be good enough to come to the point.... If there is a point."
"Yes, there is. Oh, yes, there's a point. Two or three points."
"Indeed! How interesting. And what are they? Please be as--ah--brief as
you can."
Sears crossed his legs. All this had been but preliminary maneuvering.
Here now was the real beginning of the fight; and he realized only too
keenly that his side in that fight was tremendously short of ammunition.
But he did not mean that his adversary should guess that fact, and with
the smiling serenity of absolute confidence he fired the opening gun.
"Egbert," he began--"you don't mind my callin' you Egbert? Knowin' you
as well as I do, it seems foolish to stand on ceremony, don't you think?
You don't mind?"
"Not at all. Charmed, I'm sure.... Well?"
"Well--yes. We've got a good many mutual friends--you and I, Egbert. One
of 'em is named George Kent. He's a great friend of both of us. Nice
boy, too."
At the mention of the name the Phillips hand, caressing the Phillips
mustache, paused momentarily. But it resumed operations almost at once.
Other than this there was no sign of perturbation on its owner's part.
He slowly shook his head.
"My _dear_ Captain Kendrick----" he drawled.
"Oh, call me Sears. _Don't_ be formal."
"My dear man, if it is possible for you to come to the point? Without
too great a strain on your--ah--intellect?"
"I'm comin', Egbert. Right abreast there now. George--our mutual
friend--is in trouble. He has used some money that he can't spare, used
it in a stock deal. I won't go into the particulars because you know 'em
just as well as I do. You got him into the trouble in the first place, I
understand. Now, to a man up a tree, as the boys say, it would seem as
if you ought to be the one to get him out. Particularly as you are his
very best friend. Don't you think so?"
Egbert sighed before answering, a sigh of utter weariness.
"And may I ask if _this_ is the--ah--point?" he inquired.
"Why, yes--I guess so. In a way."
"And you are acting as our young friend's representative? He has seen
fit to take you into his confidence concerning a matter which was
supposed to be a business secret between--ah--gentlemen?"
"I could see he was in trouble and I offered to do what I could to help.
Then he told me the whole thing."
"Indeed? A changeable youth. When I last heard him mention your name it
was not--pardon me--in a--shall we say strictly affectionate tone?"
"That so? Too bad. But we are all liable to be mistaken in our
judgments. Men--and women, too."
Again there was a slight pause; Egbert was regarding the speaker
intently. The latter's countenance was about as expressive as that of a
wooden idol, a good-natured one. Mr. Phillips glanced once more at the
clock, languidly closed his eyes, opened them, sighed for the third
time, and then spoke.
"So I am to understand that our--ah--juvenile acquaintance has turned
his business affairs over to you," he said. "I congratulate him, I'm
sure. The marked success which you have attained in the--ah--management
of--ah--other business affairs has inspired him with perfect trust,
doubtless."
"That must be it. The average man has to trust somebody and I gathered
that _some_ trusts of his were beginnin' to slip their moorin's.
However, here's the situation. You got him to buy some stock on margin.
The stock, instead of goin' up, as you prophesied, went down. You
suggested his puttin' up more margin. He'd used all his own money, so he
used some belonging to some one else. Now he's in trouble, bad trouble.
What are you goin' to do about it?"
"I? My dear man, what should I do about it? What can I do? I have
explained my situation to him. I am, owing to circumstances and
the--ah--machinations of certain individuals--both circumstances and
individuals of your acquaintance, I believe--in a most unfortunate
position financially. I have no money, or very little. Our--your young
protege wished to risk some of his money in a certain speculation. I did
the same. The speculation was considered good at the time. I still
consider it good, although profit may be deferred. He took the risk with
his eyes open. He is of age. He is not a child, although--pardon
me--this new action of his might lead one to think him such. I am sorry
for him, but I do not consider myself at all responsible."
"I see. But he has used money which wasn't his to speculate with."
"I am sorry, deeply sorry. But--is that my fault?
"Well, that might be a question, mightn't it? You knew he was usin' that
money?"
"Pardon me--pardon me, Kendrick; but is that--ah--strictly true?"
"Well, he says it is. However, the question is just this: Will you help
him out by buyin' up his share in this C. M. deal? Pay him back his
sixteen hundred and take the whole thing over yourself?"
Mr. Phillips for the first time permitted himself the luxury of a real
smile.
"My _dear_ man," he observed, "you're not seriously offering such a
proposition as that, are you? You must be joking."
"It's no joke to poor George. And he's only a boy, after all. You
wouldn't want him to go to jail."
The smile disappeared. "I should be pained," protested Egbert, and
proved it by looking pained. "It would grieve me deeply. But I can't
think such a contingency possible. No, no; not possible. And in time--my
brokers assure me a very short time--the stock will advance."
"And you won't take over his share and get all that profit yourself?"
"I can't. It is impossible. I am so sorry. In former days--" with a
gesture of resignation--"it would have been quite possible. Then I
should have been delighted. But now.... However, you must, as a man of
the world, see that all this is quite absurd. And it is painful to me,
as a friend--still a friend of young Kent's. Pardon me again, but I am
busy this afternoon and----"
He rose. Sears did not rise. He remained seated.
"Jail's a mean place," he remarked, with apparent irrelevance. "I'd hate
to go there myself. So would you, I'll bet."
Another pause on Phillips' part. Then another wearied smile.
"Do you--ah--foresee any likelihood of either of us arriving at that
destination?" he inquired.
"Well, _I'm_ hopin' to stay out, for a spell anyway. Mr.
Phillips--Egbert--yes, yes, Egbert, of course; we're gettin' better
acquainted all the time, so we just mustn't stand on ceremony. Egbert,
how about those City of Boston 4-1/2s you put up as security over there
in New York? What are you goin' to do about _them_?"
Egbert had strolled to the window and was looking out. He continued to
look out. The captain, his gaze fixed upon the beautifully draped, even
though the least bit shiny, shoulders of the Phillips' coat, watched
eagerly for some shiver, some sign of agitation, however slight. But
there was none. The sole indication that the shot just fired had had
any effect was the length of time Egbert took before turning. When he
did turn he was still blandly smiling. He walked back to the rocker and
settled himself upon its patchwork cushion.
"Yes?" he queried. "You were saying----"
"I was speakin' of those two one thousand dollar City of Boston bonds
you sent your brokers, you know. Would you mind tellin' me how you got
those bonds?"
Mr Phillips lifted one slim leg over the other. He lifted two slim hands
and placed their finger tips together.
"Kendrick," he asked, "you will pardon me for speaking plainly? Thank
you so much. I have already listened to you for some time--more time
than I should have spared. For some reason you have--ah--seen fit
to--shall we say pursue me here. Having found me, you make a
most--pardon me again--unreasonable and childish demand on the part of
young Kent. I cannot grant it. Now is there any use wasting more time by
asking--pardon me once more--impertinent questions concerning my
affairs? You can scarcely--well, even you, my dear Kendrick, can hardly
expect me to answer them. Don't you think this--ah--extremely pleasant
interview had better end pleasantly--by ending now?"
He would have risen once more, but Sears motioned him to remain in the
rocker. The captain leaned forward.
"Egbert," he said briskly, "I'm busy, too; but I have spent a good many
hours and some dollars to get at you and I shan't leave you until I get
at least a part of what I came after. Those Boston bonds----"
"Are my property, sir."
"Well, I don't know. The last anybody heard they were the property of
Mrs. Cordelia Berry. Now you say they're yours. That's one of the
matters to be settled before you and I part company, Egbert."
Mr. Phillips' aristocratic form stiffened. Slowly he rose to his feet.
"You are insulting," he proclaimed. "That will do. There is the door."
"Yes, I see it. It's a nice door; the grainin' on it seems to be pretty
well done. How did you get hold of those bonds, Egbert?"
"If you don't go, I shall."
"All right. Then I'll go with you. You shan't take the three-fifteen or
any other train till we've settled this and some other questions. Oh,
it's a fact. No hard feelin', you know; just business, that's all."
Egbert moved toward the door. His caller rose to follow him. The captain
often wondered afterward whether or not Phillips would really have left
the room if there had been no interruption. The question remained a
question because at that moment there was a knock on the other side of
the door. It had a marked effect upon Egbert. He started, frowned and
shot another glance at the clock.
"Excuse me," said Mrs. Backus, opening the door a crack, "but my husband
has come."
Phillips seemed relieved, yet troubled, too.
"Yes--ah--yes," he said. "Will you kindly ask him to wait? Thank you."
The lady closed the door again. Egbert took a turn across the room and
back. Kendrick smiled cheerfully.
"About those bonds?" he observed.
Phillips faced him.
"The bonds," he declared, "are mine. How I got them is not your business
in the least."
"Just a minute, just a minute. Cordelia Berry----"
"Did Mrs. Berry tell you that I had them?"
"No need to bother with that part of it now. I know."
"But she did not give you authority to come to me about them? Don't
pretend she did; I know better."
"I'm not goin' to pretend--that. She didn't."
"Humph!" with a sneer; "perhaps your authority comes from some one else.
Her daughter, maybe? You and she are--or shall we say _were_--quite
touchingly confidential at one time, I believe."
The tone and the remark were mistakes; it would have been much better
for the Phillips cause if the speaker had continued to be loftily
condescending. Sears kept a grip on his temper, but his own tone changed
as he replied.
"Egbert," he said sharply, "look here. The facts, as far as a man
without a spyglass can sight 'em through the fog, are just these: You
got George Kent into a stock trade. He put up money--real money. You put
up two thousand dollars in bonds and, because that was more than your
share, he paid you four hundred dollars in cash. The last anybody knew
the two bonds you put up were the property of Cordelia Berry. I want to
know how you got hold of 'em."
"Am I to understand that you are accusing me of _stealing_ those bonds?"
"I'm not accusin' you of anything in particular. George has put this
affair of his in my hands; I've got what amounts to his signed power of
attorney in my pocket. If those bonds are yours, and you can prove it,
then I shan't say any more about 'em. If they still belong to
Cordelia--well, that's another question, one I mean to have the answer
to before you and I part company."
"Kendrick, I---- Do you realize that I can have you arrested for this?"
"I don't know. But it does seem to me that if those bonds aren't your
property then you had no right to pledge 'em in that stock deal. And
that your takin' Kent's four hundred dollars in part payment for 'em
comes pretty nigh to what a lawyer would call gettin' money under false
pretenses. So the arrests might be even-Stephen, so far as that goes."
This was the sheerest "bluff," but it was delivered with all the
assurance in the world. It had not precisely the effect Sears had hoped
for. Egbert did not seem so much frightened as annoyed by it. He
frowned, walked across the room and back, looked at the clock, then out
of the window, and finally turned to his opponent.
"Recognizing, of course," he sneered, "the fact that all this is
absolutely none of your business, Kendrick; may I ask why you didn't
come to me in Bayport instead of here?"
The captain's smile returned. "I did try to come, Egbert," he answered.
"But you had gone and so had the things in your room. You told Sarah and
the stable folks you were goin' to Trumet. When I found you hadn't gone
there, but were bound for here--after hidin' your valises over night in
Tabby Crosby's shed--I decided you might be goin' even farther than
Denboro, and that if I wanted to see you pretty soon--or ever,
maybe--I'd better hoist sail and travel fast. When the depot folks told
me you were askin' about the three-fifteen I felt confirmed in my
judgments, as the fellow said. Now if you'll tell me about those bonds?"
Another turn by Phillips across the parlor and back. Then he asked, with
sarcasm, "If I were to tell you that those bonds were given me by Mrs.
Berry, you wouldn't believe it, I presume?"
"We-ll, I'd like to hear a little testimony from Cordelia first."
"May I ask why you did not go to her instead of to me?"
"I didn't have a chance. You got away too soon."
"Possibly you may have thought that she, too, would consider it none of
your business. And, since you won't take my word, how do you expect me
to prove--here in Denboro that those bonds are mine?"
"I don't know. But if it can't be proved in Denboro, then I'm afraid,
Egbert, that you'll have to go back to Bayport with me and prove it
there.... Oh, I know you'd hate to go, but----"
"Go! I flatly refuse to go, of course."
"I was afraid you would. Well, then I'd have to call in the constable to
help get you under way. Jim Baker, the depot master, is constable here
in Denboro. He and I were shipmates. He'd arrest the prophet Elijah if I
asked him to, and not ask why, either."
"Kendrick----"
"Egbert, a spell ago you and I had a little chat together and I told you
I had just begun to fight.... Well, I haven't really begun yet, but I'm
gettin' up steam.... Think it over."
Phillips stopped and, standing by the window, stared fixedly at the
captain. The latter met the stare with a look of the blandest serenity.
Behind the look, however, were feelings vastly different. If ever a
forlorn hope skated upon thin ice, his and George Kent's was doing so at
that moment. If Egbert _should_ agree to return to Bayport, and if his
statement concerning the ownership of the Boston bonds _was_ true,
then--well, then it would not be Mr. Phillips who might receive the
attentions of the constable.
Egbert stopped staring and once more looked at the clock. Quarter past
two! He turned again quickly.
"Kendrick," he snapped, "what _is_ your proposition?"
"My proposition? I want you to pay me the sixteen hundred dollars Kent
put into that C. M. stock deal. If you do that I'll give you his signed
paper turnin' over to you all interest in the deal. You can make all the
profit on it yourself--when it comes. Then in matter of Cordelia's
bonds----"
Phillips lifted a hand.
"The bonds are not to be considered," he said, decisively. "If they are
mine, as I say they are, you have no claim on them. If they are Mrs.
Berry's, as you absurdly pretend to think they are, again you have no
claim. If she says I have stolen them--which she won't--she may
prosecute; but, again, my dear sir, she--ah--won't."
The slight smile accompanying the last sentence troubled the captain. It
was not the smile of a frightened man. Before he could reply Egbert
continued.
"But the bond matter may be settled later," he went on. "So far as I am
concerned it is settled now. For our--ah--foolish young friend, Kent,
however, I feel a certain sense of--shall we say pity?--and am inclined
to make certain confessions. Silly sentimentalism on my part,
doubtless--but pity, nevertheless. If you will give me the paper signed
by him, which you claim to have, relinquishing all share in the stock at
the New York brokers, I will--well, yes, I will pay you the sixteen
hundred dollars."
It was Sears Kendrick who was staggered now. It was his turn to stare.
"You will pay me sixteen hundred dollars--_now_?" he gasped.
"Yes."
"But--but.... Humph! Well, thanks, Egbert--but your check, you know----"
"I have no time to waste in drawing checks. I will pay you in cash."
And, as Sears's already wide-open eyes opened wider and wider, he calmly
took from his coat a pocketbook hugely obese and extracted from that
pocketbook a mammoth roll of bank notes.
Ten minutes later the captain was again moving along the road between
Denboro and Bayport, bound home this time. He was driving mechanically;
the horse was acting as his own pilot, for the man who held the reins
was too much engrossed in thought to pay attention to such
inconsequential matters as ruts or even roads. Sears was doing his best
to find the answer to a riddle and, so far, the answer was as deeply
shrouded in mist as ever a ship of his had been on any sea.
He was satisfied in one way, more than satisfied. His demand for the
full sixteen hundred had been made with no real hope. Had Phillips
consented to return eight hundred dollars of the amount, the offer would
in the end have been accepted with outward reluctance but inward joy.
Had he refused to return a penny Kendrick would not have been surprised.
But Egbert, after making up his mind, had paid the entire sum without a
whimper, had paid it almost casually and with the air of one obliging a
well-meaning, if somewhat annoying, inferior. Inspecting and pocketing
Kent's power of attorney and the captain's receipt he had dismissed his
visitor at the parsonage door as King Solomon in all his glory might
have graciously dismissed a beggar whose petition had been granted. And
the look in his eye and the half smile beneath the long mustache were
not those of one beaten at a game--no, they were not.
The recollection of that look and that smile bothered Sears Kendrick. He
could not guess what was behind them. One thing seemed to be certain,
his threats of prosecution and his bluffs concerning the Boston bonds
had not alarmed Phillips greatly. He had not given in because he was
afraid of imprisonment. No; no, the only symptoms of nervousness he had
shown were his repeated glances at the clock, at his watch, and when he
looked out of the parsonage window. More and more the captain was forced
to the conclusion that Egbert had paid him to get rid of him, that he
did not wish to be detained or to have Kendrick remain there, and his
reasons must have been so important that he was willing to part with
sixteen hundred dollars to get his visitor out of the way.
But what possible reason could be as important as that? Why had he run
away from Bayport? Why was he taking the three-fifteen train--at
Denboro? Why was he spending the time before the departure of that train
in the parlor of the Methodist parsonage? And he had made an appointment
with the minister himself. Was he expecting some one else at that
parsonage?
Eh? The captain straightened on the buggy seat. He spoke aloud one word,
a name.
"Cordelia!" he cried.
For another five minutes Captain Sears Kendrick, his frown growing
deeper and deeper as the conviction was forced upon him, sat motionless
in the buggy. Then he spoke sharply to his horse, turned the latter
about, and drove rapidly back to Denboro. He could do nothing worth
while, he could prevent nothing, but he could answer that riddle. He
believed he had answered it already.
It was half-past three when he again knocked at the parsonage door. The
Reverend Backus himself answered the knock.
"Why, no," he said, "Mr. Phillips has gone. Yes, I think--I am sure he
took the train. You are his friend, aren't you? I am sorry you missed
the--er--happy event. Mrs. Phillips--the new Mrs. Phillips--is a
charmingly refined lady, isn't she? And Mr. Phillips himself is _such_ a
gentleman. I don't know when I have had the pleasure of--er--officiating
at a pleasanter ceremony. I shall always remember it."
Mrs. Backus looked over her husband's shoulder.
"The bride came just after you left," she explained. "She was just a
little late, she said; but it was all right, there was plenty of time.
And she did look _so_ happy!"
Captain Kendrick did not look happy. He had answered the riddle
correctly. An elopement, of course. It was plain enough now. Oh, if he
might have been there when that poor, silly, misguided woman arrived! He
might not have been able to stop the marriage, but at least he
could--and would--have told the bride a few pointed truths concerning
the groom.
Mrs. Backus, all smiles, asked her husband a question. "What did you say
her name was, dear?" she asked.
The minister hesitated. "Why--why--" he stammered, "it was---- Dear me,
how forgetful I am!"
Sears supplied the information.
"Berry," he said, gloomily. "Cordelia Berry."
Mr. Backus seemed surprised. "Why, no," he declared. "That doesn't sound
like the name.... It wasn't. No, it wasn't. It was--I have it--Snowden.
Miss Elvira Snowden--of Ostable, I believe."