Part 37 (1/2)
”Yes, he said his name was Ralph Nelson,” put in Toglet.
”You saw him go--go down all right?” asked the squire, hesitatingly. ”There was no failure----”
”Not a bit of it,” said Martin. ”He went over into the rocks below and into the water. He gave one scream, and that was all,” he added, dramatically.
The squire shuddered. It must really be true. Ralph Nelson was dead!
”Very good,” he said, in a hoa.r.s.e voice. ”Here is the hundred dollars each I promised you. You shall have the other five hundred when--the body is found.”
”All right, but you'll have to do the finding,” said Martin. ”It's at the bottom of the big cliff on the west side of Three Top Island. His cap is among the rocks close by.”
”And his boat----”
”We sent that adrift. If we are traced up we want to s.h.i.+eld ourselves by saying we went off hunting and when we got back could find nothing of him and the boat, and had to get a stranger to take us ash.o.r.e.”
”Ah, I see. Very good.”
”Now we want to be going. We'll look for you in Chambersburgh inside of a week. Don't fail us if you value your secret.”
”I will be on hand.”
”You ought to pay us more than five hundred,” put in Toglet. ”You are going to make a pile out of this.”
”How do you know anything about what I am going to make?” asked the squire, in great surprise.
”The boy told us about his property and the papers that were missing.”
”I know nothing of that.”
”Humph! We can put two and two together. You'll make a fortune out of that land, no doubt.”
”I know nothing of that land you mention.”
”Maybe you don't.”
”And I haven't his missing papers,” went on Squire Paget, and for once he spoke the truth.
”Then what's your aim in getting him out of the way?”
”That is my affair.”
”Of course it is,” broke in Martin. ”But you might make it a bit more than five hundred.”
”I am poor, gentlemen. I had to do what has been done to keep me from ruin.”
Both of the rascals laughed at his words, but they could get nothing more out of the squire, and a few minutes later, after a little more conversation concerning poor Ralph, they separated. The two villains who had pushed the boy over the cliff went back for their guns and game-bags, and then set out for a town at the north of the lake.
Squire Paget watched them out of sight, and then hurried back to his mansion. Somehow, he did not feel safe until he had locked himself in his library.
”At last the boy is out of the way,” he murmured, to himself, as he sank into an easy-chair. ”It was accomplished much easier than I imagined it would be, thanks to my intimate knowledge of the character of that rascal Martin, and Toglet, his tool. Now what is to be done next? It will not do to get the widow out of the way--that would excite suspicion. I had better wait and watch her closely. Maybe she'll be unable to hold her cottage with her son no longer at hand to earn enough to keep them, and she'll be forced to sell out at a low figure, and then--by Jove!” he exclaimed, suddenly.