Part 20 (1/2)
”We may be evenly divided--fifty-fifty,” and Bowman laughed grimly.
”But the ones who believe--or _say_ that they believe--Nelson Haley guilty, will talk much louder than those who deny.”
”Oh, Frank Bowman! you take all my hope away.”
”I don't mean to. I want to point out to you--and myself, as well--that to sit idle and wait for the matter to settle itself, is not enough for us who believe Haley is guiltless. We've got to set about disproving the accusation.”
”I--I can see you are right,” admitted the girl faintly.
”Yes; I am right. But being right doesn't end the matter. The question is: How are we going about it to save Nelson?”
Janice was rather shocked by this conclusion. Frank had seemed so clear up to this point. And then he slumped right down and practically asked her: ”What are _you_ going to do about it?”
”Oh, dear me!” cried Janice Day, faintly, ”I don't know. I can't think. We must find some way of tracing the real thief. Oh! how can I think of that, when here poor 'Rill and Hopewell are in trouble?”
”Never mind! Never mind, Janice!” said Frank Bowman. ”We'll soon get Hopewell home. And I hope, too, that his wife will know enough to keep him away from the hotel hereafter.”
”But, suppose she can't,” whispered Janice. ”You know, his father was given to drinking.”
”No! Is that so?”
”Yes. Maybe it is hereditary----”
”Queer it didn't show itself before,” said Bowman sensibly. ”I am more inclined to believe that Joe Bodley is playing tricks. Why! he's kept bar in the city and I know he was telling some of the scatter-brained young fools who hang around the Inn, that he's often seen 'peter' used in men's drink to knock them out. 'Peter,' you know, is 'knock-out drops!'”
”No, I don't know,” said Janice, with disgust. ”Or, I didn't till you told me.”
”Forgive me, Janice,” the civil engineer said humbly. ”I was only explaining.”
”Oh, I'm not blaming you at all,” she said. ”But I am angry to think that my own mind--as well as everybody's mind in Polktown--is being contaminated from this barroom. We are all learning saloon phrases. I never heard so much slang from Marty and the other boys, as I have caught the last few weeks. Having liquor sold in Polktown is giving us a new language.”
”Well,” said Bowman, as the lights of the Inn came in sight, ”I hadn't thought of it that way. But I guess you are right. Now, now, Janice, what had we better do? Hear the noise?”
”What kind of dance is it?” asked Janice, in disgust. ”I should think that it was a sailor's dance hall, or a lumber camp dance. I have heard of such things.”
”It's going a little too strong for Lem Parraday himself to-night, I guess. Marm shuts herself in their room upstairs, I understand, and reads her Bible and prays.”
”Poor woman!”
”She's of the salt of the earth,” said Bowman warmly. ”But she can't help herself. Lem would do it. The Inn did not pay. And it is paying now. At least, he says it is.”
”It won't pay them in the end if this keeps up,” said Janice, listening to the stamping and the laughter and the harsh sounds of violins and piano. ”Surely Hopewell isn't making _all_ that--that music?”
”I'll go in and see. I shouldn't wonder if he was not playing at all now. Maybe one of the boys has got his fiddle.”
”Oh, no! He'd never let that precious violin out of his own hands, would he?” queried Janice. ”Why! do you know, Frank, I believe that is quite a valuable instrument.”
”I don't know. But when I started uptown one of the visitors was teasing to get hold of the violin. I don't know the man. He is a stranger--a black-haired, foxy-looking chap. Although, by good rights, I suppose a 'foxy-looking' person should be red-haired, eh?”
Janice, however, was not splitting hairs. She said quickly: ”Do go in; Frank, and see what Hopewell is about.”