Sylvia, meanwhile, had heard Stanley Heath call Marcia and hailed her aunt's departure from the kitchen as the opportunity for which she had so anxiously been waiting.
No sooner was the elder woman upstairs and out of earshot than she tiptoed from her room, the monogrammed handkerchief in her pocket.
She had pried out the brick and had the jewel-case in her hand, wrapped and ready for its return when conversation overhead suddenly ceased and she heard Marcia pass through the hall and start down stairs.
Sylvia gasped. She must not be found here. Yet what was she to do?
There was no chance now to put the package back and replace the brick which fitted so tightly that its adjustment was a process requiring patience, care, and time.
Flustered, frightened, she jammed the jewel-case into her dress and frantically restoring the brick to the yawning hole in the hearth as best she could, she fled up the back stairs at the same moment Marcia descended the front ones.
Once in her room, she closed and locked the door and sank panting into a chair to recover her breath.
Well, at least she had not been caught and in the meantime the jewels were quite safe.
Mr. Heath was too ill to be up and about for several days and until he was able to leave his room there was not the slightest danger their absence would be discovered. Long before that time, Marcia would doubtless go to walk or to the village for mail and leave her ample opportunity to put the loot back where Mr. Heath had hidden it.
She took the case stealthily from her pocket.
Now that the gems were in her possession, it certainly could do no harm for her to look at them—even try them on, as she had been tempted to do when she first discovered them. Probably never again in all her life would she hold in her hand so much wealth and beauty. No one, not Heath himself, could begrudge her a peep at the trinkets.
Accordingly she unwound the handkerchief and opened the box.
There lay the glistening heap of treasure, resplendent in the sunshine, a far more gorgeous spectacle than she had realized.
Going to the bureau, Sylvia took out the jewels, one by one.
She clasped the diamonds about her neck; fastened the emerald brooch in place; put on the sapphire pendant; then added the rings and looked at herself in the gold-framed mirror.
What she saw reflected dazzled her. Who would have believed jewels could make such a difference in one's appearance? They set off her blonde beauty so that she was suddenly transformed into a princess.
No wonder Stanley Heath had risked his life and his freedom for spoils such as these!
If she could have only one of the jewels she would be satisfied—the string of diamonds, the brooch, a ring—which would she choose?
Of course she never could own anything so gorgeous or so valuable. Notwithstanding the certainty, however, it was fun to imagine she might.
Slowly, and with conscious coquetry, like a preening bird, she turned her head this way and that, delighting in the creaminess of the neck the gems encircled, and in the fairness of her golden curls.
She really ought to have jewels. She was born for them and could carry them off. There were myriad women in the world on whom such adornment would be wasted—good and worthy women, too. Fancy Maria Eldridge or Susan Ann Bearse, for instance, arrayed in pomp like this! But Marcia would be magnificent, with her rich complexion, her finely poised head, her splendid shoulders, her lovely neck. Marcia dressed in all this wealth would be well worth looking at.
Then a voice interrupted her reverie.
It was Stanley Heath calling.
She heard Marcia reply and come hurrying upstairs.
Guiltily Sylvia took off her sparkling regalia; tumbled it unceremoniously into its case; and slipped it into the drawer underneath a pile of nightdresses. Then she softly unlocked the door and sauntered out.
It was none too soon, for Marcia was speaking to her.
"Sylvia?"
"Yes."
"How would you feel about going over to the village for the mail and to do some errands? The tide is out and you could walk. Prince needs a run."
"I'd love to go."
"That's fine. Here is a list of things we need at the store. Just be sure not to dally too long and get marooned over in town."
"I'll watch out."
"You're sure you don't mind going?"
"No, indeed. I shall enjoy being out."
Then suddenly Sylvia had an inspiration which she instantly acted upon.
"Why don't you go?" she inquired. "You didn't sleep much last night, and a walk might do you good."
"Oh, I couldn't," objected Marcia with haste."I've a hundred and one things to do."
"Tell me what they are and I'll do them for you."
"I couldn't. They are things I must do myself. Thanks just the same."
"Well, you know your own business best. Is this the list?"
"Yes. There are quite a few items, but they won't be heavy. Here is the basket. Prince will carry it. That is his job and very proud he is of doing it. Goodbye, dear."
"She's dreadfully anxious to get us out of the way, isn't she, Prince?" commented young Sylvia as she and the setter started out over the sand. "Now what do you suppose she has on her mind? She's up to something. Marcia isn't a bit of an actress. She's too genuine."
Marcia, standing at the window watching the girl in her blue sweater and matching beret swing along over the flats mirrored with tiny pools of water, would have been astonished enough had she heard this astute observation.
She did want Sylvia out of the way. The girl had read her correctly.
She must telephone the messages to the station-master at Sawyer Falls, the adjoining town where the railroad ended and the nearest telegraph station was.
She got the line and had no sooner dictated the telegrams than she heard Heath's voice.
During the interval that had elapsed since she had left him, both of them had experienced a reaction and each was eager to make amends.
Marcia regretted her flippancy. It had been childish of her to give way to pique and punish Heath simply because it was proved he had a wife. Why should he not be married? No doubt the absent Mrs. Stanley Heath was a dashing, sophisticated beauty, too, who lived in luxury at the great city hotel to which the first wire had been sent.
Heath had been quite frank about the message and its destination. On thinking matters over, it occurred to Marcia he might have considered this the easiest way to inform her of things he found it embarrassing to put into words.
She had been made aware in delicate fashion that he was rich, married and moved in a circle far removed from the humble one she herself occupied.
No doubt he felt she should realize this.
It regulated their relationship and prevented any possible misunderstandings.
And she?
Instead of appreciating his honesty, chivalry, gentlemanly conduct as she should have done, and receiving it graciously, surprise had betrayed her into displaying resentment.
She was heartily ashamed of herself. No matter how much it humbled her pride, she must put things right. Fortunately it was not too late to do so.
Therefore, a very different Marcia Howe responded to Stanley Heath's summons.
She was now all gentleness, friendliness, and shyly penitent. If her former coquetry had been bewitching, this new artless self of hers was a hundredfold more alluring.
Stanley, again master of himself, welcomed her with amazement. Could man ever fathom a woman's moods, he asked himself? Why this chastened and distractingly adorable Marcia?
It was he who had been in the wrong and given way to temper, yet instead of demanding the apology which trembled on his tongue, here she was taking the blame and passing over his irritability with the charity of a mother humoring a fretful child.
Well, if he could not fathom her, he at least was grateful for her understanding.
Nevertheless he did mentally observe he had not dreamed her to be so many-sided or credited her with a tithe the fascinations he had so unexpectedly discovered her to possess.
"Here I am, Mr. Heath. What can I do for you?" was her greeting.
This time she did not hesitate, but went directlyto the chair beside his bed and sat down. He smiled and, meeting his eyes, she smiled back. This was better. Heath sighed a sigh of relief.
"I've been thinking, since you went down stairs, about Currier. He ought to arrive late tonight or early tomorrow morning. He will start the moment he gets my wire. Although he will not know in which house I am quartered, he will have the wit to inquire, for he has more than the ordinary quota of brains. I don't know what I should do without him. He has been with me for years and is an Admirable Crichton and a good man Friday rolled into one. I shall have him leave the car in the village and after he has delivered over the clothing he is to bring, he can take the noon train back to New York, carrying the jewels with him."
"I see," nodded Marcia.
She did not see.
She did not understand any of the snarl of events in which so unwittingly she found herself entangled.
Nevertheless she heartily welcomed the intelligence that the jewels with their damning evidence, if evidence it was, were to be removed from the house. The sooner they were out of the way the better. If they were not damning evidence they at least were a great responsibility.
Suppose something were to happen to them? Suppose somebody suspected they were in the house?
The thought had occurred to her more than once.
"So," continued Stanley Heath, "I think sometime today when you have a good opportunity you'd better get the case and bring it up here. I shall then have it here in my room and I can hand it over to Currier without any trouble."
"I'll go and fetch it now. Sylvia has gone to the village and this is a splendid chance," cried Marcia.
"Fine!"
"I'll be right back."
He heard her speed down the stairs and listened to her step in the room below.
Then there was silence.
A few moments later she came racing back, white and breathless.
"They're gone!" she cried. "The place is empty! The jewels are not there!"
Her terror and the fear lest her pallor foreshadowed collapse produced in Heath that artificial calm one sometimes sees when a strong nature reins itself in and calls upon its reserve control.
Marcia had fallen to her knees beside the bed and buried her face, trembling with agitation.
The man thought only of how to quiet her. Reaching out, he touched her hair.
"Hush, Marcia. The jewels will be found. Don'tgive way like this. I cannot bear to see you. The whole lot of them are not worth your tears."
"But you left them in my care. It was I who suggested where to hide them," she moaned.
"I know. And it was a splendid idea, too. Besides, we had no time to hunt hiding-places. We were forced to act right away. I could not let that sheriff of yours peel off my clothes and find the diamonds on me. He isn't a man of sufficient imagination—or perhaps he is one of far too much. I am not blaming you,—not in the least. We did the best we could in the emergency. If things have gone wrong, it is no fault of yours."
"But you trusted me. I ought to have watched. I should not have left the kitchen day or night," declared Marcia, lifting her tear-stained face to his.
"You have been there most of the time, haven't you?"
"I went to see them get the boat off yesterday."
"Still, someone was here. Sylvia was in the house."
"Yes, but she knew nothing about the jewels and therefore may not have realized the importance of staying on deck. How could she, unless she had been warned? All I asked her to do was to remain within call. She may have gone upstairs, or into another room."
"When she comes back, you can ask her."
It was he who now soothed and cheered, his caressing hand moving from her shoulder down her arm until her fingers lay in his.
Convulsively she caught and clung to them.
"Now we must pull ourselves together, dear," went on Stanley gently. "It is important that we do not give ourselves away. Sylvia may know nothing and if she does not, we must not let her suspect. The fewer people there are mixed up in this dilemma the better."
"Yes."
She rose but he still held her hand, a common misery routing every thought of conventionality.
The firmness and magnetism of his touch brought strength. It was a new experience, for during her life with Jason, Marcia had been the oak—the one who consoled, sustained. For a few delicious moments, she let herself rest, weary and unresisting, within the shelter of Stanley Heath's grasp. Then she drew away and, passing her hand across her forehead as if awaking from a dream murmured:
"I'd better go down. Sylvia will be coming."
"Very well. Now keep a stiff upper lip. Remember, I depend on you to see the apple-cart does not upset."
"I will—I'll do my best."
Even as she spoke the outer door opened, then closed with a bang.
"There's Sylvia now. I must go."
The girl came in, aglow from her walk.
"I'm awfully sorry I banged the door," she apologized. "A gust of wind took it. I do hope I didn't wake up Mr. Heath. Here's the marketing. I thought I should never get out of that store. Everybody in the whole town was there for mail and I had to stop and tell each one all about Mr. Heath and his shipwreck, his boat and his health. I must have answered a million questions. People are dreadfully curious about him.
"And Marcia, what do you suppose? I had a letter from Hortie Fuller—that fellow back home that I've told you about. He's sent me a five-pound box of candy and he wants to come to Wilton and spend his summer vacation."
The girl's eyes were shining and she breathed quickly.
"Of course I don't care a button for Hortie. Still, it would be rather good fun to see him. He always dropped in every day when I was at home. It seems ages since I've laid eyes on him. You know how it is—you get used to a person who is always under foot. You have to think about him if only to avoid stepping on him. And after all, Hortie isn't so bad.Thinking him over from a distance, he really is rather nice. Come and sample the candy. It's wonderful. He must have blown himself and sent to Chicago for it, poor dear! I suppose Eben Snow read the address, because he called out 'Guess you've got a beau out West, Miss Sylvia.' Everybody heard him and I thought I should go through the floor. He looked the letter all over, too. I'll let you see the letter, all except the part which is too frightfully silly. You wouldn't care about that. I don't myself."
Sylvia shrugged her shoulders.
Alas, this was no moment to talk with her, and artfully draw from her the happenings of the previous day.
Inwardly distraught but outwardly calm, Marcia took the letter and tried valiantly to focus her attention upon it.
To her surprise, it was a manly, intelligent letter, filled with town gossip, to be sure, yet written in delightfully interesting fashion.
"Your Mr. Fuller sounds charming," she said as she gave it back.
"Oh, Hortie is all right—in some ways." Patronizingly slipping the letter into her pocket, Sylvia shifted the subject. Nevertheless, a betraying flush colored her cheeks. "Now we must start dinner, mustn't we? See, it's noon already. I had no idea it was so late."
She tossed her hat into a chair.
"Don't you want to ask Mr. Heath which way he prefers his eggs—poached or boiled? I suppose with a temperature, he isn't going to be allowed anything but simple food. And Marcia, while you're there, do put a pair of fresh pillow-slips on his pillows. The ones he has are frightfully tumbled. I meant to do it this morning."
As the door closed behind the elder woman, artful young Sylvia smiled.
"There! That will keep her busy for a few moments at least. I know those pillow-cases. They fit like a snake's skin and are terribly hard to get off and on."
She crept into the hall and listened.
Yes, Marcia and Stanley Heath were talking. She could hear her aunt's gentle insistence and the man's protests. That was all she wished to know. The pillow-cases were in process of being taken off.
Up the stairs flew Sylvia, to return a second later, the jewel-case swathed in its loose wrappings.
"If I can only scramble it in there before she comes," whispered she. "I shall draw the first long breath I've taken since last night. I wouldn't own those things if they were given me. They would worry me into my grave."
An anxious interval elapsed before the brick waspried out and the case slipped beneath it. Nevertheless the feat was accomplished and triumphant, relieved, happy Sylvia set about preparing dinner.
She even ventured to hum softly that when Marcia returned she might find her entirely serene.
"Mr. Heath, alas, will never know how becoming his jewelry was to me," she mused. "Had a Hollywood producer seen me, he would have snapped me up for a movie star within ten minutes. I certainly looked the part."
What a long while Marcia was staying upstairs! Why, one could change a dozen pillow-slips in this time.
"I guess they are tighter than I remembered them. I needn't have rushed as I did," pouted Sylvia. "What can she be doing?"
When at last Marcia returned, something evidently was wrong.
"What's the matter?" demanded Sylvia. "Is Mr. Heath worse?"
"Worse? No indeed. What made you think so?"
"You look fussed."
"Do I? You'd be fussed had you wrestled with those pillow-slips as I have," was the reply. "Either the pillows have swelled or the cases have shrunk frightfully. Well, they are on now, anyway."
"Come and get dinner then. I'm starved. My walk has made me hungry as a bear. You must goout this afternoon, Marcia. It is a glorious day and you need to be pepped up. I know what staying in the house means. Didn't I sit in this kitchen all yesterday afternoon until I got so dopey I could scarcely keep my eyes open? Not that I wasn't glad to," she added hastily. "I never mind staying in when there is a reason for doing it, and of course I want to do my bit toward taking care of Mr. Heath. Still, indoors isn't the same as outdoors. We all need exercise. I've had my quota for the day. You must have yours."
To her surprise, Marcia demurred.
"Thank you, dear, but I think I won't go out today."
"Why not?"
"I don't feel like it. I'd rather sit here and read."
"Nonsense, Marcia! You're getting middle-aged and lazy. You'll lose your nice slim, hipless figure if you don't watch out."
"I guess I shan't lose it today. Soon Mr. Heath will be gone and we can both go."
"But I can play nurse for the afternoon."
"I'm too tired to go out."
"The air would rest you."
"Not today, dear," Marcia said with finality. "I have some mending to do and lots of other little things that I have been saving up for a long time. Since I prefer to stay, why don't you tramp up theshore and seeMy Unknown Lady? She is beautiful and you haven't seen her yet."
"I'd love to—if I cannot coax you to go out."
"You can't. I'm adamant on not stirring out of this room."
"Well, if your mind is made up to that extent, I suppose there is no use in my trying to change it. I would like to see the boat."
"I'm sure you would. Stay as long as you like. There will be nothing to do here. Somebody ought to enjoy the sunshine and blue sky. Mr. Heath will probably sleep and in the meantime I shall get my sewing done."
As Marcia spoke the words, her mind was busy.
So Sylvia had not stirred from the kitchen on the previous afternoon! The theft of the jewels must, then, have taken place during the night.
Nevertheless, she was puzzled, for she had no memory of finding anything awry when she came down at sunrise to lay the fire.
Moreover, she now recalled she had been in the kitchen several times during the night, heating soup and getting water for Stanley Heath.
There had been nothing wrong then, at least she had noticed nothing.
When had the gems been taken, and who had taken them? No wonder she craved solitude to ponderthe conundrum! This, however, was not the paramount reason she desired to be alone.
Despite the enigma of the jewels; despite the mystery surrounding Stanley Heath, deep in her heart something that would not be stilled was singing—singing!
Inthe meantime, the throng of neighbors Sylvia had precipitately left in the village post office had received their mail and reached that anticipated interval for gossip which never failed to be stimulating.
Clustered about the counter loitered the standbys.
Zenas Henry was speaking:
"A mighty fine little girl—that Sylvia," commented he. "A high stepper! We'd oughter tie her down to Wilton so'st she won't go back West. She's too pretty to be spared from the Cape."
"I figger you'd have trouble keepin' her here," rejoined Silas Nickerson, the postmaster, sauntering out from his wicker cage. "She's got a beau in her home town. Had a letter an' a box of candy from him today. Same writin' an' same postmark on both of 'em, I noticed. She blushed red as a peony when I passed 'em out to her."
"Didn't by any chance see the name, did you, Silas?" Eleazer Crocker inquired.
"Wal, come to think of it, it did catch my eye. You know how such things will. Fuller, he's called. Horatio Fuller."
"Horatio Fuller, eh?" Eleazer repeated. "Kinder high soundin'. Wonder who he is? From Alton City, you say."
Silas nodded.
"That was the address."
"Never heard of the place," Captain Benjamin Todd put in.
"That don't in no way prevent its existin', Ben," answered Zenas Henry with his customary drawl.
"If we had a map handy we might look it up," suggested Captain Phineas Taylor. "I'd like to see just where it's located."
"I tried doin' that," the postmaster admitted. "I got out my map, but the place warn't on it."
"No wonder I never heard of it!" blustered Benjamin Todd.
"That don't prove nothin', Benjamin," his friend Phineas Taylor expostulated. "Silas's map was drawed before the flood. Even Wilton ain't on it."
"It ain't?"
A simultaneous gasp rose from the assembly.
"Then all I can say is it's a darn poor map," Enoch Morton sniffed. "A map that ain't got Wilton on it might as well be burned. 'Tain't worth botherin' with."
"It's all the map I've got," Silas apologized.
"You'd oughter ask the government for another. Why don't you write to Washington, explainin' that neither Wilton nor Alton City are on this one an' ask 'em for a better one?"
"'Fore you start complainin', you might make sureBelleport's down," suggested Lemuel Gill, a resident of the adjoining village. "Last I knew, that warn't on this map, neither."
"'Twarn't?"
"Who makes these maps, I wonder?" bristled Zenas Henry. "Some numskull who ain't traveled none, I'll bet a hat. Why don't he go round an' see what places there is 'fore he starts map-makin'? Why, any one of us knows more 'bout the job already than he does. We know there's Belleport, an' Wilton, an' Alton City."
"Bet you couldn't tell what state Alton City is in, though, Zenas Henry," Silas challenged.
"Alton City? Let me think! Alton City!" Thoughtfully he stroked his chin. "'Tain't my business to know where 'tis," he presently sputtered. "If everybody knew where all the blasted places in the country were, what use would they have for maps? 'Twould put the map-makin' folks clean out of business."
"If map-makers don't know where Wilton an' Belleport are they'd better be out of business, in my opinion," countered Benjamin Todd. "Say, Ephraim," he exclaimed, inspired by a bright idea, "you're the mail carrier. You'd oughter be primed on the location of places. Where's Alton City?"
"Alton City? Hanged if I know. To hear youtalk, anybody'd think 'twas my job to tote round the country deliverin' letters in person at the doors of every house in the United States."
"But you must have some notion 'bout geography. Ain't you got no pocket atlas nor nothin'?"
"I may have a small map somewheres; I carry most everything," Ephraim grinned. With deliberation, he began to disgorge upon the counter the contents of his many pockets.
There was a tangle of pink string; two stumpy pencils without points; a fragment of fish-line; a soiled scrap of court-plaster; a box of matches; a plug of tobacco; a red bandanna handkerchief; three cough-drops, moist and sticky; several screws; a worn tube of paste; a jack-knife.
"My soul, Eph!" ejaculated Zenas Henry. "You're a reg'lar travelin' junk shop, ain't you?"
"I have to have things by me."
"Was you Robinson Crusoe, you'd never have call for any such mess of truck as this. Where's the map?"
"Must be in my breast pocket," replied the mail-carrier, thrusting his hand inside his pea-coat. "My eye! If I ain't forgot that telegram!" he abruptly exclaimed. "The station-master at Sawyer Falls gave it to me when he handed out the mail. It clean went out of my mind."
"A telegram!" came in chorus from his audience. "Who for?"
"It's for that chap Heath who's stayin' over at The Widder's."
"Hadn't you been wool-gatherin' you might 'a' given it to Sylvia to take back with her. She was here only a little while ago," Silas Nickerson said.
"I know it."
"S'pose I was to take it over," Elisha Winslow suggested eagerly. "I'm willin' to."
"Fur's that goes, I can carry it," Captain Phineas Taylor piped.
"Give it to me, Eph, an' I'll see it's landed there within half an hour," proposed Benjamin Todd, elbowing his way forward.
"Now there's no use in all you fellers volunteerin'," Eleazer Crocker asserted. "I'm goin' straight over to Marcia's, as it happens, soon's I've et my dinner, an' I'll take the telegram."
With an air of authority, he held out his hand.
The crowd fell back.
Yet notwithstanding their acquiescence, Zenas Henry, not to be awed into subjection, had the temerity to add:
"Remember, though, Eleazer, you ain't to go off the mainland without leavin' the key to the engine-house where we can get it. We've no hankerin' to beburnt alive while you're philanderin' at The Widder's."
"Hang it on the peg inside Benjamin Todd's fish shanty as you go by," called another voice.
"I'll do that," Eleazer agreed as he pocketed the telegram.
Early afternoon found Marcia alone in the Homestead sitting-room.
A driftwood fire flickered upon the hearth, for although spring was on the way, the large, high-studded rooms were not yet entirely free of winter's chill and dampness.
Sylvia had gone up the beach. Stanley Heath was asleep; and at last the delicious interval of solitude which the woman coveted was here.
The basket at her elbow overflowed with mending, but she had not yet taken up her needle.
Instead she sat motionless before the blaze, dreamily watching the vivid blues and greens as they flared up into the glow of the flame there to blend with its splendor, and afterwards melt into embers of scarlet and orange.
She could not work.
Try as she would, her mind wandered off into by-ways too fascinating to be resisted—by-ways whichno matter how remote their windings, invariably led her back to Stanley Heath.
In retrospect she lived over again every incident, every word, every look that had passed between them until she came to the barrier of the unknown which her fancy bridged with intricate rainbow-hued imaginings.
While the fire crackled and flashes of sapphire and emerald shot up and died away, she twisted possible explanations this way and that and would contentedly have continued the pastime had not Eleazer Crocker knocked at the door.
Eleazer could not have chosen a more inopportune moment to drag her back to earth.
With a frown and a deep sigh, Marcia went reluctantly to let him in.
"Wal, now ain't it nice to find you by yourself!" was his greeting. "The kitchen looks cozy as can be. Spring may be comin' but for all that cool weather still hangs on. Where was you settin'?"
"I was in the front room, but perhaps we better drop down here so I can listen in case Mr. Heath should call."
"Anywhere you say. Wherever you are suits me."
"I'll just run in and put the screen round the fire and get my mending," Marcia replied a trifle uneasily.
"Let me go."
"No, indeed. You wait here. I'll be right back."
Left to himself, Eleazer smiled a smile of satisfaction.
The kitchen was warm, Marcia was alone and apparently not busy. Could circumstances be more propitious? Fortune certainly was with him. Today, this very afternoon, he would take his future in his hands and put to her the question he had so often determined to put.
Times without number he had mentally rehearsed what he meant to say. In fact he habitually fell into this intriguing dialogue whenever he had nothing else to occupy him. It commenced with a few preliminary observations concerning the weather, the springtime, the birds—the birds who would soon be mating. That was the keynote—mating. The rest followed very naturally. It was, Eleazer felt, a neat, in fact quite a poetic proposal.
He cleared his throat in preparation.
When Marcia came back, he was primed and ready to begin his declaration.
"Weather's been fine, ain't it?" he started out.
Marcia took up her sewing.
"Do you think so?" questioned she, raising her brows. "Seems to me we've had lots of rain and fog."
"Wal, yes, now you mention it I do recall a few thick days. Still, spring is comin'."
"I'd like to shingle the south ell this spring," announced Marcia, giving a disconcertingly practical twist to the conversation. "How many shingles do you suppose it would take?"
Eleazer frowned.
The dialogue was not proceeding along the lines he had mapped out.
Determined to fetter it and bring it back into the prescribed channels, he answered:
"I'd have to reckon that out. It's a good notion, though, to make the ell tight. That's what the birds are doin'."
Astonished, Marcia glanced up from her work.
"I mean," floundered on Eleazer, "they're gettin' their nests built an' kinder pickin' out their mates. Pickin' the right mate's quite a job for some folks."
He saw Marcia turn scarlet. Mercy! What a slip! She thought he was twitting her about Jason.
"What I set out to say was that when you get the wrong mate you know it," he countered hastily.
No sooner, however, were the words out of his mouth than he saw they were no better.
Perhaps it would be well to abandon the mating question and start on a new tack. He had tried the spring. Suppose he took summer as his theme?
"Summer's a nice season, ain't it?" ventured he.
"Yes, although I never enjoy it as much as the other months. I don't like the heat and I detest the summer boarders."
Eleazer swallowed hard. He would better have clung to the spring. He saw that now. He would retrace his steps.
"Spring is nice," he agreed. "With the birds a-buildin' their nests, an'—"
At last he was back on familiar ground.
"I did not realize you were so much interested in birds, Eleazer," Marcia exclaimed. "I have a fine bird book I must lend you. It's in the other room. I'll fetch it."
Springing up, she disappeared.
"Drat it!" murmured Eleazer. "Could anything be more exasperatin'? An' me neither knowin' nor carin' a hang whether a bird's a robin or a sparrow. Just when I was gettin' the way paved so nice, too." He wandered to the window. "Oh, heavens, who's this comin'? If it ain't 'Lish Winslow! Now what in thunder does he want, buttin' in? He's walkin' like as if the evil one was at his heels."
Eleazer threw open the door.
Before he could speak, however, Elisha puffing and out of breath bawled:
"Where in the name of goodness did you put theengine-house key, Eleazer? Whipple's hen house is afire an' we've hunted high an' low for it."
Eleazer purpled.
"My soul an' body," he gasped. "I clean forgot to leave it. Must be here in my pocket."
Wildly he began to search.
"You're a fine head of the fire department, you are!" roared Elisha. "If you'd put your mind on town business 'stead of on Marcia Howe, we'd all be better off. Traipsing over here to see her in the middle of the day, palmin' off that telegram as an excuse—"
If Eleazer had been purple before, he was livid now.
"Well, you better go straight back to the village fast as you can leg it an' carry the key with you," went on the accuser. "Don't wait for nothin'. I'll explain matters to Marcia."
"But I've got to see her. I've got to speak to her private," protested the wretched official.
"Private? Ain't you been talkin' to her private an' hour or more? What else have you got to say to her?"
"I want to give her somethin'."
"Give it to me. I'll hand it to her."
Elisha's extended palm was not to be ignored.
"This—this—telegram," quavered Eleazer. "I ain't had a chance to—"
"Do you mean to say you ain't given her that telegram yet?"
"I was intendin' to. I was just about to when—"
"Wal, of all the—" words failed Elisha. "Here, give it to me," he commanded. "I can be depended on to deliver messages if you can't. I'll see she has it. In the meantime, the best thing you can do is to hoof it to town quick's ever you can. If the whole place ain't burned to the ground an' if they don't tar an' feather you when you put in your appearance, you'll be lucky."
"Ain't you comin'?"
"I? No. Fire's ain't in my line. Long's Marcia's here by herself an' ain't busy, I'm goin' to pay her a call," Elisha grinned. "I've got to deliver the telegram."
"Still, you don't need to stay," pleaded Eleazer, facing his triumphant rival.
"Mebbe I do," was Elisha's hectoring retort. "Mebbe this is the very time for me to linger behind. The coast's clear. Why shouldn't I stay?"
"You might be needed at the fire."
"I shan't be," was the calm reply. "Not unless there's somethin' criminal about it."
"It might be arson."
"I'll take a chance on it startin' from Dan Whipple's cigarette. In fact he owned as much. Dan's terrible careless with his cigarettes. Now, hop along,Eleazer, else the whole conflagration will be out 'fore you get there."
The unlucky fire-chief had no choice.
"Drat it!" raged he, as he strode off across the sand. "Drat it! Ain't that just my luck!"
Eitherthe book for which Marcia searched was not to be found or she was in no haste to return to her awaiting suitor.
Whatever the explanation, her absence lengthened from a few moments into a quarter of an hour.
In the meantime Elisha, like his predecessor, was formulating his mode of attack.
Eleazer, apparently, had not been successful.
Might not this be his own golden opportunity?
Before another snatched the prize from him; before Heath with his yacht and his monogrammed silken garments recovered his strength, he would put his fate to the test.
Women were unaccountable creatures.
You never could predict what they might do.
Smoothing a man's pillow and feeding broth to him sometimes brought about surprising results.
Furthermore, thus far no one had been able to find out how well Marcia really knew this Stanley Heath. Perhaps a romance of long standing, of which the village was ignorant, existed between them.
Who could tell?
In any case, it behooved an aspirant for the hand of this matchless creature to put in his claim without delay.
Elisha wandered about the empty kitchen, mentally summing up the situation.
He had a small deposit in the bank which, added to Marcia's larger fortune, would provide sumptuously for his old age. In addition, if she became his wife she would, of course, do the cooking and housework and he could dismiss May Ellen Howard, his housekeeper, thereby saving her salary.
As to a house, he could not quite decide whether it would be wiser to take up residence in the Homestead or continue to live in his own smaller abode in Wilton. The Homestead undoubtedly was finer and more pretentious, but it was large and probably expensive to heat. Furthermore, its location was breezy and draughts always aggravated his rheumatism. If it could be sold, it should net a neat sum.
Well, he need not decide these questions now. There would be time enough to smooth out all such trivial details after the wedding.
He strolled up to the stove and, standing on the hearth with his back to the fire, rocked back and forth on his heels reflectively.
As he did so, a brick beneath his feet rocked with him.
Elisha looked down.
He saw it was quite loose.
"That thing's goin' to trip up somebody some fine day," commented he. "It oughter be cemented."
He stooped to investigate.
It was then he noticed for the first time an edge of linen projecting above the masonry.
"Marcia must 'a' stuffed a rag in there to keep the thing from wobblin'," he mused. "Ain't that like a woman? She ain't helped matters none, neither. It wobbles just the same. I can fix it better'n that."
Producing his knife, Elisha pried the brick from its place.
As he lifted it out, a handkerchief came with it disgorging at his feet a flat, blue leather case.
If the sheriff's eyes bulged when he caught sight of it, they all but popped from his head when, egged on by curiosity, he pressed the catch on the box.
Quick as a flash the whole situation clarified in his mind.
These were the widely heralded Long Island jewels; and the thief who had stolen them was here beneath this roof!
It was plain as a pikestaff. Hidden by fog he had escaped in his boat and inadvertently run aground at the mouth of Wilton Harbor.
Of course Marcia did not know. Even though a friendship existed between herself and Heath, she was unquestionably ignorant of the nefarious means by which he earned his living.
Far from cherishing anger or resentment toward the person who exposed his villainy and preventedher from sacrificing herself to such an unprincipled adventurer, would she not regard her rescuer with deepest gratitude? Elisha's head whirled.
Nevertheless, confused though he was, it was clear to him he must not make a misstep and neglect to perform his official duty with dignity.
Heath was ill. There would be no danger of his leaving the Homestead at present, especially as he had no suspicion the jewels had been discovered.
The best plan was for him to return to the mainland; get his badge and handcuffs; find out what formalities such a momentous event as an arrest demanded; and return later and round up the criminal.
He did not dally. Carefully putting the gems back where he had found them, he placed the telegram upon the table and went out, softly closing the door behind him.
It flashed into his mind that as the tide was coming in it might be well to borrow Marcia's boat and row back to shore.
This would serve two purposes. He would reach home sooner; and Heath, cut off by the sweep of the channel, would in the meantime be unable to escape.
Elisha rubbed his hands. He was pretty farsighted—pretty cute. In fact, his management of this affair was going to put a big feather in his cap.He could see now his name emblazoned on the front pages of the papers:
Elisha Winslow, Wilton sheriff, makes daring arrest! Cape official rounds up gem thief!
All over the country people would read that it was he who had tracked down this notorious criminal.
And the police—those brass-buttoned city men who rated themselves so high and looked down on village constables and sheriffs as if they were the dirt beneath their feet—they would be given a lesson they would remember!
They would be pretty sore about it, too, when they found the glory of making this capture going to a small-town deputy.
Never had Elisha rowed as he rowed that day! The dory fairly leaped through the water. Reaching shore, he sprang from it and dragged it up on the sand. Then, trembling with excitement, he set out for home.
Everything must be done in ship-shape fashion. There must be no bungling—no slips that would detract from the dignity of the event. He was almost at his gate when to his consternation he saw Eleazer puffing after him.
"You didn't make much of a stop at The Widder's, I see," jeered he.
"No. Had other business," came crisply from Elisha.
"You don't say! I can't imagine your havin' business important enough to cut short a call on Marcia Howe. Mebbe she didn't urge you to loiter."
"I didn't see Marcia. I come away 'fore she got back," snapped the sheriff.
Unbelievingly, Eleazer scanned his countenance.
"You 'pear to be kinder stirred up, 'Lish," he commented. "What's the matter?"
Elisha determined upon a sudden and bold move.
"Say, Eleazer," began he cautiously, "was you ever at an arrest?"
"An arrest!"
"Yes. Did you ever see a man arrested?"
"Wal, I dunno as I ever did—not really. I've seen it done, though, in the movies."
"That oughter be up-to-date an' proper. Just how was the proceedin' put through?"
Thoughtfully Eleazer regarded the toes of his boots.
"Wal, near's I can recollect, the policeman went up to the criminal an' grabbin' him by the arm says: 'You villain! I've got you now. Scram!' I ain't exactly positive he says Scram at that precise minute, but in all such scenes, somebody always says Scram to somebody else 'fore the mix-up is through. That, in the main, is what happens."
"I s'pose the policeman wore a badge an' carried handcuffs."
"Oh, law, yes. But what's the game? What do you want to know for?"
Furtively Elisha glanced up and down the empty road and after peering over his shoulder, he dropped his voice to a confidential whisper and hissed:
"'Cause I'm goin' to make an arrest—a big arrest! I've tracked down the thief that committed the Long Island burglary. Moreover, I know this very second where the jewels are."
Eleazer's jaw dropped.
"I'm goin' to 'phone the New York police I've got their man," he concluded, drawing himself to his full height and expanding his chest until the buttons on his coat threatened to burst off.
"You be? My soul an' body!"
"Yes, I'm goin' to call long distance straight away."
Eleazer's cunning mind worked quickly.
"I don't know, 'Lish, as I'd do that," he cautioned.
"Why not?"
"Wal, in the first place, you might be mistook in your calculations an' not only get yourself into hot water but make the town a laughin' stock. Furthermore, was you wrong, you might get sued for defamin' the accused's character."
"I ain't wrong. I'm right."
"Wal, even so, I'd move careful," urged his companion. "Most likely there's a reward out for this criminal. Why split it with a host of others? Why don't you an' me divide it? I'll help you land your man, since you're a bit—" Eleazer, fearing to offend, hesitated, "—a bit out of practice 'bout arrestin'."
The advice was good. Elisha, shrewd in his dealings, instantly saw the advantages of the plan proposed.
"Wal, mebbe 'twould be better if I didn't let too many ignorant city chaps in on a big thing like this," he conceded pompously. "You an' me know what we're about. I figger we could handle it."
"Sure we could. We can put it through in first-class shape. First you must change your ole clothes for your Sunday ones. A black frock coat's what you really oughter wear. I wish we dared borrow the minister's. Still, I reckon your Sunday suit'll do. Then you must pin your sheriff's badge on your chest where it'll show good an' plain. Be sure to bring along your handcuffs, 'cause you're certain to need 'em with an experienced criminal such as this. He won't have no mind to be took up. He'll have a gun an' put up a fight."
"Have a gun?"
"Sure he'll have a gun! In fact he'll prob'ly have several of 'em."
Elisha paled and a tremor twitched his lips.
"That needn't concern you none, though. All you'll have to do will be to steal up behind him, put your pistol 'twixt his shoulder-blades an' shout: 'Stick 'em up!'"
"Stick 'em up?"
"Yes."
"Stick what up?"
"His hands, man—his hands," explained Eleazer impatiently.
"I ain't got no pistol."
"For the land's sake! You ain't got a pistol? You—a sheriff?"
"Somehow I never got round to purchasin' a pistol," Elisha apologized. "I ain't fond of fire-arms. In fact, I don't know's I ever shot off a revolver in my life."
"Wal, I have. I've shot dozens of skunks."
"You might lend me yours."
"I s'pose I might. It ain't, though, workin' very well right now. It's kinder rusty. Furthermore, I'm out of ammunition."
"That wouldn't matter. I ain't calculatin' to fire it."
"But you'll have to."
Elisha's mounting disapproval changed to consternation.
Turning, he faced Eleazer.
"Say, Eleazer," he faltered, "s'pose we was tomake a deal on this thing. S'pose, for the time bein' I was to take over your job an' you was to take over mine. S'pose you did the arrestin'? This affair's a big one an' oughter be given all the frills a city policeman would give it. That's due the town. Now you seem to know a sight more 'bout how to manage it than I do."
"You put on the badge; you tell the thief to stick 'em up; you put the pistol 'twixt his shoulders, or wherever you think 'twill do the most good; an' you snap the handcuffs on him. I'll see you get full credit for it. Meanwhile, if there's a fire or an undertakin' job, I'll manage 'em somehow."
Eleazer shook his head.
"That wouldn't do, 'Lish, no way in the world," he objected. "We can't go swappin' offices voted us by the town. Folks wouldn't like it. Was I, a common citizen, to shoot the criminal, I'd likely be hauled up for murder. I'm willin' to stand by you to the extent of goin' along an' keepin' you company; but you must be the one that bears the brunt of the job."
"I could resign my office."
"When?"
"Right now. In fact, I've had a notion to do so, off an' on, for some time. You see, I never did want to be sheriff. The office was foisted on me. I'm findin' it pretty wearin'."
"Man alive! Bein' sheriff in Wilton can't be wearin'."
"U—m. Wal, mebbe it don't 'pear to be to an onlooker. Still, it's an almighty big responsibility for all that," Elisha insisted. "Besides, 'twas kinder understood when I took the office there'd be no arrestin' nor shootin'. Jewel robberies warn't in the contract."
"But man alive, you ain't been burdened with jewel robberies. 'Tain't as if they come every day in the week."
"They're wearin' when they do come," Elisha persisted.
"Everything's wearin' when it comes—fires an' all such things. Did they happen seven days in the week, we'd all be wore to the bone. But they don't."
"N—o."
"Wal, then, what you wailin' about? I should think you'd kinder welcome a break in the monotony instead of groanin' over it. 'Twill give you a chance to show folks what you can do. The feller can't do more'n shoot you an' should you be shot at the post of duty, why the town would give you a big funeral an' I myself would lay you out in just the style you'd hanker to be laid out in."
"But—but—I don't hanker to be laid out," whimpered Elisha in an aggrieved tone.
"I don't s'pose you do. None of us does. Still,you might display a measure of gratitude for the offer."
"Oh, I appreciate your kindness," amended the wretched sheriff, fearful of losing his solitary prop. "I appreciate it very much indeed."
Eleazer appeared mollified.
"You ain't told me yet none of the details of this business," he suddenly remarked. "If I'm goin' to help you, I'd oughter be told everything about it. Who is the criminal? An' where is he? An' how'd you come to get track of him?"
Alas, the questions were the very ones Elisha had hoped to escape answering.
He had no mind to lay his cards on the table. Nevertheless, he knew of no way to evade his confederate's curiosity. Eleazer was touchy. It would not do to risk offending him a second time.
Reluctantly, cautiously, Elisha poured out his story and was rewarded to see the other town official gape at him, open-mouthed.
"Bless my soul," he reiterated. "Bless my soul! Who would 'a' drempt it?" he burst out when he could contain himself no longer. "Wal, I never did like that feller Heath. I suspected from the first there was somethin' wrong about him. Prob'ly he has queer eyes. You can always spot a criminal by his eye. Kinder shifty an' fishy."
"I didn't notice he had fishy eyes," mildly rejoined Elisha.
"You ain't seen as much of the world as I have, 'Lish," was the patronizing retort.
"I don't know why," bristled the sheriff. "You ain't never been twenty miles beyond Wilton."
"Possibly I ain't. Possibly I ain't," grudgingly confessed Eleazer. "Travelin' ain't all there is to life, though. I'm observin', I am. I understand human nature. This Heath feller, now. I understand him."
"Then p'raps you can foretell what he's likely to do when I arrest him," put in Elisha eagerly.
"I can," Eleazer nodded. "I can prophesy just about what he'll do."
"What?"
"It's better I shouldn't tell you. 'Twouldn't be wise. We must do our duty no matter what comes of it."
Again Elisha's knees weakened beneath him.
"Seems to me," went on Eleazer, "that 'stead of loiterin' here discussin' the calamities of the future you'd better be gettin' on to your house. You've got to put on your other clothes. The press, most likely, will want to photograph you. Then you must hunt up your badge, your handcuffs an' all your paraphernalia. I'd better cut across the field, meantime, an' oil up my pistol. Mebbe I can fix itso'st it'll go off. I'll try an' find you some cartridges, too. I wouldn't want to stand by an' see you struck down without your havin' some slight defense, poor as 'tis."
With this dubious farewell, Eleazer bustled off across the dingle and was lost to sight.