Part 63 (1/2)

”Got a little extra to spend to-day,” he declared, with a chuckle.

”Picked up twenty dollars this mornin' that I never expected to see again.”

”So? You're lucky.”

”That's what I thought. Say, Kendrick, have you had any--hum--business dealings with that man Phillips? No,” with another chuckle, ”I suppose you haven't. He doesn't love you over and above, I understand. My wife and the rest of the women folks seem to think he's first mate to Saint Peter, but, between ourselves, he's always been a little too much of a walkin' oil barrel to suit me. He borrowed twenty of me a good while ago and I'd about decided to write it down as a dead loss. But an hour or so ago he ran afoul of me and, without my saying a word, paid up like a man, every cent. Had a roll of bills as thick as a skys'l yard, he did.

Must have had a lucky voyage, I guess. Eh? Ha, ha!”

He moved off, still chuckling. Kendrick walked down the lower road pondering on what he had heard. Egbert, the professed pauper, in possession of money and voluntarily paying his debts. What might that mean?

Sarah met him at the door. She seemed distressed.

”There!” she cried, as he approached. ”If this isn't too bad! And I was afraid of it, too. You've walked way down here, Sears, on those poor legs of yours, and Mr. Phillips has gone again. And I don't think he'll be back before night, if he is then. He said not to worry if he wasn't, because he might have to go to Trumet. Isn't it a shame?”

It was a shame and a rather desperate shame. This was Tuesday. If the interview with Egbert was to take place at all, it should be that day, or the next. He looked at his sister's face and something in her expression caused him to ask a question.

”What is it, Sarah?” he demanded. ”What's the rest of it?”

She hesitated. ”Sears,” she said, after looking over her shoulder to make sure none of the children was within hearing, ”there's somethin'

else. I--I don't know, but--but I'm almost _sure_ Mr. Phillips won't be back to-night. I think he's gone to stay.”

”Stay? What do you mean? Did he take his dunnage--his things--with him?”

”No. His trunk is in his room. And he didn't have a satchel or a valise in his hand. But, Sears, I can't understand it--they're gone--his valises are gone.”

”Gone! Gone where?”

”I don't know. That's the funny part of it. He's always kept two valises in his room, a big one and a little one. I went into his room just now to make the beds and clean up and I didn't see those valises anywhere. I thought that was funny and then I noticed that the things on his bureau, his brushes and comb and things, weren't there. Then I looked in his bureau drawers and everything was gone, the drawers were empty....

Sears, what _do_ you suppose it means?”

Her brother did not answer at once. He tugged at his beard and frowned.

Then he asked:

”Didn't he say a word more than you've told me? Or do anything?”

”No. He had his breakfast out here with us this mornin'. Then he went back to his room and, about nine or so, he came out to me and paid his board bill---- Oh, I told you he'd pay it, Sears; he always does pay--and then----”

”Here! Heave to! Hold on, Sarah! He paid his bill, all of it?”

”Yes. Right up to now. That was kind of funny, bein' the middle of the week instead of the end, but he said we might as well start with a clean ledger, or somethin' nice and pleasant like that. Then he took a bundle of money from his pocketbook--a great, _big_ bundle it was, and--Why, why, Sears, what is it? Where are you goin'?”

The captain had pushed by her and was on his way to the front of the house.

”Goin'?” he repeated. ”I'm goin' to have a look at those rooms of his.

You'd better come with me, Sarah.”

CHAPTER XVIII

The keeper of the livery stable was surprised. ”Why, yes,” he said, ”Mr.