Part 70 (2/2)

Cabot, I--did I understand you to say--?”

”Miss Martha!” The voice outside the door was more insistent than ever.

”Miss Martha, Zach he says we've all hands got to come right straight off, 'cause if we don't there'll be h.e.l.l to pay.... My savin' soul, I never meant to say that, Miss Martha! Zach, he said it, but _I_ never meant to. I--I--Oh, my Lord of Isrul! I--I--oh, Miss Martha!”

Further wails of the frightened and repentant one were lost in an ecstatic shout of laughter from Mr. Cabot. Martha slowly shook her head.

”Well,” she observed, dryly, ”I guess likely we'd better go, hadn't we? If it is as bad as all that I should say we had, sure and certain.

Primmie Cash, I'm ashamed of you. Mr. Cabot, we'll finish our talk when we come back. What under the sun you can possibly mean I declare I don't understand.... But, there, it will keep. Come, Mr. Bangs.”

She led the way from the sitting room. Cabot followed her and, staggering slightly and with a hand still pressed to his forehead, Galusha followed them. He was saved for the time, he realized that, but for such a very short time. For an hour or two he was to hang in the air and then would come the inevitable crash. When they returned home, after the seance was over, Martha would question Cousin Gussie, Cousin Gussie would answer, then he would be questioned and--and the end would come.

Martha would know him for what he was. As they emerged from the Phipps'

door into the damp chill and blackness of that October evening, Galusha Bangs looked hopelessly up and down and for the first time in months yearned for Egypt, to be in Egypt, in Abyssinia, in the middle of the great Sahara--anywhere except where he was and where he was fated to be.

The windows of the light keeper's cottage were ablaze as they drew near.

Overhead the great stream of radiance from the lantern in the tower shot far out. There was almost no wind, and the grumble of the surf at the foot of the bluff was a steady ba.s.s monotone.

Zacheus, who had waited to walk over with them, was in a fault-finding state of mind. It developed that he could not attend the meeting in the parlor; his superior had ordered that he ”tend light.”

”The old man says I hadn't no business comin' to the other sea-ants thing,” said Zach. ”Says him and me ain't both supposed never to leave the light alone. I cal'late he's right, but that don't make it any better. There's a whole lot of things that's right that hadn't ought to be. I presume likely it's right enough for you to play that mouth organ of yours, Posy. They ain't pa.s.sed no law against it yet. But--”

”Oh, be still, Zach Bloomer! You're always talkin' about my playin' the mouth organ. I notice you can't play anything, no, nor sing neither.”

”You're right, Pansy Blossom. But the difference between you and me is that I know I can't.... Hey? Why, yes, Martha, I shouldn't be a bit surprised if the fog came in any time. If it does that means I've got to tend foghorn as well as light. G.o.dfreys!”

Before they opened the side door of the Hallett home, the buzz of voices in the parlor was distinctly audible. Lulie heard the door open and met them in the dining room. She was looking anxious and disturbed. Martha drew her aside and questioned her concerning her father. Lulie glanced toward the parlor door and then whispered:

”I don't know, Martha. Father seems queer to-night, awfully queer. I can't make him out.”

”Queer? In what way? He is always nervous and worked up before these silly affairs, isn't he?”

”Yes, but I don't mean that, exactly. He has been that way for over a week. But for the last two days he has been--well, different. He seems to be troubled and--and suspicious.”

”Suspicious? Suspicious of what?”

”I don't know. Of every one.”

”Humph! Well, if he would only begin to get suspicious of Marietta and her spirit chasers I should feel like givin' three cheers. But I suppose those are exactly the ones he isn't suspicious of.”

Lulie again glanced toward the parlor door.

”I am not so sure,” she said. ”It seemed to me that he wasn't as cordial to them as usual when they came to-night. He keeps looking at Marietta and pulling his beard and scowling, the way he does when he is puzzled and troubled. I'm not sure, but I think something came in the mail yesterday noon and another something again to-day which may be the cause of his acting so strangely. I don't know what they were, he wouldn't answer when I asked him, but I saw him reading a good deal yesterday afternoon. And then he came into the kitchen where I was, took the lid off the cookstove and put a bundle of printed pages on the fire. I asked him what he was doing and he snapped at me that he was burning the words of Satan or something of that sort.”

”And couldn't you save enough of the--er--Old Scratch's words to find out what the old boy was talkin' about?”

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