"No, and she mustn't know. Don't you tell her or anybody else. Don't you do it."
"I—why, I won't if you say so, of course. Good night."
Kendrick closed the door. Then he came back to his seat before the stove. When Judah returned home he found that his lodger had gone to the spare stateroom, but he could hear his footsteps moving back and forth.
"Ahoy, there, Cap'n Sears!" hailed Judah. "What you doin', up and pacin' decks this time of night? It's pretty nigh eight bells, didn't you know it?"
The pacing ceased. "Why, no, is it?" replied the captain's voice. "Guess I'd better be turnin' in, hadn't I? How's the weather outside?"
"Fairin' off fast. Rain stopped and it's clear as a bell over to the west'ard. Clear day and a fair wind to-morrer, I cal'late."
Kendrick made no further comment and Judah prepared for bed, singing as he did so. He sang, not a chantey this time, but portions of a revival hymn which he had recently heard and which, because of its nautical nature, had stuck in his memory. The chorus commanded some one or other to
"Pull for the shore, sailor,Pull for the shore.Leave that poor old stranded wreckAnd pull for the shore."
Mr. Cahoon sang the chorus over and over. Then he ventured to tackle one of the verses.
"Light in the darkness, sailor,Day is at hand."
"Judah!" This from the spare stateroom.
"Aye, aye, Cap'n Sears."
"Better save the rest of that till the day gets here, hadn't you?"
"Eh? Oh, all right, Cap'n. Just goin' to douse the glim this minute. Good night."
Three days after this interview in the Minot kitchen George Kent again came to call. He came after dark, of course, and his visit was brief. He had received from the New York brokers a detailed statement of his and Phillips' joint account. The statement bore out what he had already told Sears. Four hundred shares of Central Midland Common had been purchased at 40. Against this the partners deposited sixteen hundred dollars. Later they had deposited another sixteen hundred. The New York firm were as confident as ever that the stock was perfectly good and the speculation a good one. They advised waiting and, if possible, buying more at the present low figure.
All this was of little help. The only information of any possible value was that concerning the bonds which Egbert had contributed as his share of the margin. Those, according to the brokers, were two City of Boston 4-1/2s, of one thousand dollars each, numbered A610,312 and A610,313.
Kent would have stayed and talked for hours if Kendrick had permitted. He was as nervous as ever, even more so, because the days were passing and the time drawing near when his brother-in-law would demand settlement. The captain comforted him as well as he could, bade him write his sister or her husband that he would remit early in the following week, and sent him home again more hopeful, but still very anxious.
"I don't see how I'm going to get the money, Cap'n Kendrick," he kept repeating. "I don't see how all this helps us a bit. I don't see——"
Kendrick interrupted at last.
"You don't have to see," he declared. "You've left it to me, now let me see ifIcan see. I told you that, somehow or other, I'd tow you into deep water. Well, give me achance to get up steam. You write that letter to your brother-in-law and hold him off till the middle of next week. That's all you've got to do. I'll do the rest."
So Kent had to be satisfied with that. He departed, professing over and over again his deathless gratitude. "If you do this, Cap'n Kendrick," he proclaimed, "I never, never will forget it. And when I think how I treated you I can't see why you do it. I never heard of such——"
"Sshh! shhh!" The captain waved him to silence. "I don't know why I am doin' it exactly, George," he said.
"I do. You're doing it for my sake, of course, and——"
"Sshh! I don't know as I am—not altogether. Maybe I'm doin' it to try and justify my own judgment of human nature—mine and Judge Knowles'. If that judgment isn't right then I'm no more use than a child in arms, and I need a guardian as much as—as——"
"As I do, you mean, I suppose. Well, I do need one, I guess. But I don't understand what you mean by your judgment of human nature. Who have you been judging?"
"Never mind. Now go home. Judah's out again and that's a mercy. I don't want him or any one else to know you come here to see me."
George went, satisfied for the time, but Sears Kendrick, left face to face with his own thoughts, knew that he had told the young man but a part of the truth. It was not for Kent's sake alone that he had made the rash promise to get back eight hundred of the sixteen hundred, or another eight hundred to take its place. Neither was it entirely because he hoped to confirm his judgment in the case of Egbert Phillips. The real reason lay deeper than that. Kent had declared that he still loved Elizabeth Berry and that he had reason to think she returned that love. Perhaps she did; in spite of some things she had said after their quarrel, it was possible—yes, probable that she did. If, by saving her lover from disgrace, he might insure her future and her happiness, then—then—Sears would have made rasher promises still and have undertaken to carry them out.
The brokers' letter helped but little, if any. He enteredthe names and numbers of the bonds in his memorandum book. Those bonds still perplexed him. He could not explain them, satisfactorily. It might be that Egbert had more left from his wife's estate than Judge Knowles expected him to have or that Bradley was inclined to think he had. Lobelia's will bequeathed to her beloved husband "all stocks, bonds, securities, etc.," remaining. But Knowles had more than intimated that none remained. The pictures of the horses and the ladies in Egbert's room at Sarah Macomber's confirmed the captain's belief that the Phillips past had been a hectic one. It seemed queer that, out of the ruin, there should have been preserved at least two thousand dollars in good American—yes, City of Boston—bonds.
In the back of the Kendrick head was a theory—or the ghost of a theory—concerning those bonds. He did not like to believe it, he would not believe it yet, but it was a possibility. Elizabeth had been bequeathed twenty thousand dollars. She and Egbert had been close friends for a time. She had liked him, had trusted him. Of late, so Esther Tidditt said, that friendship had been somewhat strained. Was it possible that.... Humph! Well, Bradley might know. He was Elizabeth's guardian, he would know if her investments had been disturbed.
Then, too, if worst came to the worst and he had to raise the eight hundred, which he had promised Kent, by borrowing it, he could, he thought, arrange to get from Bradley an advance of that amount, or a part of it, against his salary as manager of the Fair Harbor.
So he determined, as the next move, to go to Orham and visit the lawyer. On Saturday morning, therefore, he and the Foam Flake once more journeyed along the wood road to Orham.
CHAPTER XVII
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 yoursisa 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. Irealize 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 foryouto 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 whenIasked 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 captainwaslooking 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 informationshe 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. Andnowmaybe 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? Andnowwhat?"
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'sthe 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 remainedthat 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 goneTo my way, oh, Storm Along.Old Storm Along is dead and goneAy—ay—ay, Mister Storm A-long.
"'When Stormy died I dug his graveTo 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 ifIwouldn't take the job. Hoppin', creepin', jumpin' Henry! I shut down onthatnotion 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 inthisworld."
"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'dwantto 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 courseall 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 whichhad 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 Georgestopped 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 thinkyoucould 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 achuckle. "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'malmostsureMr. 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, whatdoyou 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,bigbundle 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."
CHAPTER XVIII
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 inspectedEgbert'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? Andwhathad 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. Hewashurrying—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?Inever 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 tome, 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 whatIcouldn'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 aswell at Bayport.Icouldn'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, Searsventured 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 poisereturned. 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 Iever 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' whyIam 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 nosign of perturbation on its owner's part. He slowly shook his head.
"MydearCaptain Kendrick——" he drawled.
"Oh, call me Sears.Don'tbe 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 ifthisis 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 whichyou 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 thatsometrusts 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.
"Mydearman," 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'mhopin' 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 aboutthem?"
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 therewas 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."