clearly.
"I hear the call, Lord," he said. "I thank thee for showin' it to me in your Book. 'And they burnt all their cities wherein they dwelt, and all their goodly castles, with fire.' With fire! With fire!"
"Ssh-h! There, there, John! Don't talk so," entreated the Captain.
"Where's the kerosene?" continued the old man. "And the matches? Now softly, softly. The shavin's. It's dark. Here, in the corner. Ah, ha! ah, ha! 'And all their goodly castles with fire!' Now, Web Saunders, you wicked man! Now! Burn! I've done it, Lord! I've done it!"
"Hush!" almost shouted the agonized Captain Eri. "Hush, John! Be still!"
"There, there, Cap'n Baxter," said Mrs. Snow soothingly, laying her hand on the sick man's forehead. Somehow, the touch seemed to quiet him; his eyes lost their fire, and he muttered absently that he was tired. Then the eyes closed and he lay still, breathing heavily.
"Land of love!" exclaimed the Captain. "That was awful! Hadn't I better go for the doctor?"
"I don't think so, unless he gits worse. He had jest such a turn, as I told you, last night."
"Did he talk like he did jest now?"
"Jest the same."
"'Bout the same things?"
"Yes."
The Captain gasped. "Then you knew!" he said.
"That he set the billiard room afire? Yes. I've always rather suspicioned that he did, and last night, of course, made me sure of it."
"Well, well! You haven't said nothin' 'bout it to anybody?"
"Of course not."
"No, 'course you haven't. You must excuse me--I'm kind of upset, I guess. Dear! dear! Did you think _I_ knew it?"
"I sort of guessed that you did."
"Well, I did. I've known it ever sence that night he was found. He had his coat on when I found him, and 'twas all burnt, and there was an empty kerosene bottle in his pocket. I hid the coat, and threw the bottle away, and turned him so he was facin' towards the saloon 'stead of from it. And I lied when I told the doctor that he was jest as he fell. There! the murder's out! Now, what do you think of me?"
"Think? I think you did exactly right."
"You DO?"
"I sartinly do."
"Well, I snum! I've been over that thing time and time again, and I've felt like I was sort of a firebug myself sometimes. I've heard folks layin' it to fust one and then the other, and cal'latin' that Web did it himself to git the insurance, and all the time I've known who really did do it, and haven't said anything. I jest couldn't. You see, John and me's been brothers almost. But I didn't s'pose anybody else would see it the same way."
"Cap'n Eri, do you s'pose I blame you for tryin' to keep your best friend out of trouble that he got into by bein'--well--out of his head. Why, land of mercy! He ain't no more to be held responsible than a baby. You did what I'd have done if I'd been in your place, and I respect you for it."
The Captain's voice shook as he answered:
"Marthy Snow," he said, "you're the kind of woman that I'd like to have had for a sister."
It was perhaps a half-hour later when Captain Eri started for the schoolhouse to bring Elsie home. John Baxter had not wakened, and Mrs. Snow said she was not afraid to remain alone with him. The thaw had turned to a light rain and the Captain carried an umbrella. It was dark by this time, and when he came in sight of the schoolhouse he saw a light in the window.
One of the scholars--a by no means brilliant one--whose principal educational achievement was the frequency with which he succeeded in being "kept after school," was seated on the fence, doing his best to whittle it to pieces with a new jackknife.
"Hello, sonny!" said the Captain. "Miss Preston gone yit?"
"No, she ain't," replied the boy, continuing to whittle. "She's up there. Mr. Saunders is there, too."
"Saunders? WEB SAUNDERS?"
"Yup. I see him go in there a little while ago." Captain Eri started toward the schoolhouse at a rapid pace; then he suddenly stopped; and then, as suddenly, walked on again. All at once he dropped his umbrella and struck one hand into the palm of the other with a smack.
When he reached the door, he leaned the umbrella in the corner and walked up the stairs very softly, indeed.
CHAPTER XVI
A BUSINESS CALL
That enterprising business man, Mr. "Web" Saunders, opened the door of his renovated billiard room a little later than usual the next morning. It was common report about the village that Mr. Saunders occasionally sampled the contents of some of the "original packages" which, bearing the name and address of a Boston wholesale liquor dealer, came to him by express at irregular intervals. It was also reported, probably by unreliable total abstainers, that during these "sampling" seasons his temper was not of the best. Perhaps Mrs. Saunders might have said something concerning this report if she had been so disposed, but unless a discolored eye might be taken as evidence, she never offered any. The injury to her eye she explained by saying that something "flew up and hit her." This was no doubt true.
But, gossip aside, Mr. Saunders did not seem in good humor on this particular morning. A yellow cur, of nondescript breed, taken since the fire, in payment of a debt from "Squealer" Wixon, who had described it as a "fust-class watchdog," rose from its bed behind the cigar counter, yawned, stretched, and came slinking over to greet its master. "Web" forcibly hoisted it out of the door on the toe of his boot. Its yelp of pained surprise seemed to afford the business man considerable relief, for he moved more briskly afterward, and proceeded to sweep the floor with some degree of speed.
The forenoon trade at the billiard room was never very lively, and this forenoon was no exception. "Bluey" Batcheldor drifted in, stepped into the little room the door of which was lettered "Ice Cream Parlor," and busied himself with a glass and bottle for a few moments. Then he helped himself to a cigar from the showcase, and told his friend to "chalk it up." This Mr. Saunders didn't seem to care to do, and there was a lively argument. At length "Bluey's" promise to "square up in a day or so" was accepted, under protest, and the customer departed.
At half-past eleven the man of business was dozing in a chair by the stove, and the "watchdog," having found it chilly outside and venturing in, was dozing near him. The bell attached to the door rang vigorously, and both dog and man awoke with a start. The visitor was Captain Eri.
Now, the Captain was perhaps the last person whom the proprietor of the billiard room expected to see, but a stranger never would have guessed it. In fact, the stranger might reasonably have supposed that the visitor was Mr. Saunders' dearest friend, and that his call was a pleasure long looked forward to.
"Why, Cap'n!" exclaimed "Web," "how are you? Put her there! I'm glad to see you lookin' so well. I said to 'Squealer' the other day, s'I, 'Squealer, I never see a man hold his age like Cap'n Hedge. I'll be blessed if he looks a day over forty,' I says. Take off your coat, won't you?"
Somehow or other, the Captain must have lost sight of "Web's" extended hand. Certainly, the hand was large enough to be seen, but he did not take it. He did, however, accept the invitation to remove his coat, and, slipping out of the faded brown pea jacket, threw it on a settee at the side of the room. His face was stern and his manner quiet, and in spite Of Mr. Saunders' flattering reference to his youthful appearance, this morning he looked at least more than a day past forty.
But, if Captain Eri was more than usually quiet and reserved, "Web" was unchanged, and, if he noticed that the handshake was declined, said nothing about it. His smile was sweetness itself, as he observed, "Well,