Part 61 (2/2)

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's_ the 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 remained that 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 gone To my way, oh, Storm Along.

Old Storm Along is dead and gone Ay--ay--ay, Mister Storm A-long.

”'When Stormy died I dug his grave To 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 s.h.i.+p. 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.”

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