Part 41 (2/2)
Britt worked as if he were alone in the place. He talked to himself.
”Demons are after it. Demons and dead men! The demons sha'n't have it.
I told 'em where it was. But I'll take it away. The demons brought h.e.l.l fire to make me tell. They brought a dead man. But they sha'n't have it.”
”He's gone raving crazy!” cried an onlooker in shrill tones.
”Come on, men! Let's catch him and tie him up,” suggested somebody else.
But they were prevented by fears which were made effective by influences which did not seem to partake wholly of human qualities.
In their concentrated interest in the active Britt they had been disregarding Vaniman, who was restraining himself, standing outside the radiance of the lanterns.
The next instant he leaped into the sight of all of them. He stood between them and Britt. He pulled his weapons. His blood-spotted face seemed a vision of the unreal; but the guns were unmistakably the agents which a human being would employ in an emergency. And there was a businesslike click in his tone. ”Stand back, the whole of you! This is a show-down. Tasper Britt is confessing that he is a thief and a liar. Use your eyes.”
They cowered back from the threat of the guns and did use their eyes.
They saw Britt uncover a section of the bas.e.m.e.nt floor of concrete. They saw him locate an iron ring that was cunningly concealed under a little square of concrete which he pried up with his finger nails. He tugged at the ring and lifted a slab. The men with the lanterns raised them high.
The light glinted on gold--gold coins in bulk, naked of sacks.
A man had come thrusting through the crowd in the bas.e.m.e.nt, hurrying in from the outside. It was Squire Amos Hexter. It was hard to determine from his expression which spectacle he found the more astounding--Frank Vaniman at bay, in the flesh, or the gold coins that Tasper Britt was dipping with both hands, sluicing them upon the concrete in jingling showers.
Squire Hexter did find his voice. ”Good G.o.d!” he shouted.
”G.o.d is good!” said Vaniman. He threw the weapons into a far corner of the bas.e.m.e.nt. ”Squire Hexter, take charge of this thing. Here are plenty of witnesses.”
The Squire went forward slowly. His lips moved without the sound of spoken word. He set the clutch of his hands on Vaniman's arms. He stared long and earnestly into the young man's eyes.
”I can't talk now,” Vaniman quavered.
And the Squire seemed to know, out of his sympathy with men, that there was something for that case better than words. He put his arms around Vaniman and kissed him. ”Come along home with me to Xoa, sonny.”
Britt struggled to his feet, and groaned when his weight came on the tortured flesh. He looked about as if searching for something. ”A basket!” he muttered. ”I must find a basket.”
He started forward and saw Vaniman in the hook of the Squire's arm.
Whether increase of his mania or some sort of remorse prompted his utterance was not clear. ”Take it back to Tophet with you! I didn't mean to keep it. I didn't know how to give it back. I took it so that they'd pen you up, out from under my feet. But even a thousand tons of rock can't pen you. I'm done trying. If this is what you're chasing me for, take it! Keep away from me.”
He went through the crowd, beating his way with his fists.
”Shall we hold him, Squire?” called a man.
”Let him alone for just now! He can't go far in that shape. We'll attend to him after a little while.” The Squire pulled himself together with the air of one who saw that the situation needed a commander. He singled responsible men from the crowd and ordered them to take charge of the coin.
”Come away with me,” he urged Vaniman. ”This is no place for our talk.”
When they walked out of the building they saw no sign of Britt. ”We'll let him alone,” insisted the Squire. ”There'll be no use in asking him questions till he's in his right mind. He'll probably get back his wits when he gets back his clothes.”
”Squire Hexter, what's happening in this town to-night. What--”
”All in good time, sonny! Let's get home where Xoa is.”
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