Part 61 (1/2)

Everett mentally congratulated himself upon his diplomacy, while Horace bit his lip until it was ridged white. In his disappointment he cast down his eyes, and then it was that his attention was called to the paper Brimbecomb had dropped on the floor. He changed his position, and when he came to a standstill his foot was planted squarely on the paper.

For a moment Horace was under the impression that Everett had seen him cover the letter; but the unruffled egotism on the face of the other betrayed no suspicion.

”Who ordered the withdrawal of the deputy?” Horace demanded.

Everett knew that the lies he told would have to be consistent; so he repeated what he had said to Ann.

”I don't know,” Everett said. ”I didn't.”

Horace gazed at his companion for several seconds.

”Something tells me that you're lying,” he said finally.

An evil change of expression was the only external sign of Brimbecomb's longing to throttle Horace.

”A compliment, I must say, my dear Sh.e.l.lington,” he said; ”and the only reason I have for not punching you is--Ann.”

The other's eyes narrowed ominously.

”Ann is the one who is keeping me from thumping you, Brimbecomb. If you know anything of Fledra Cronk, I want you to tell me.”

”I've told you all I know,” Everett answered.

”For Ann's sake, I hope you've told me the truth; but, if you haven't, and have done anything to my little girl, then G.o.d protect you!”

The last words were uttered with such emotional decision that Everett's first real fear rose within him. With difficulty he held back a torrent of words by which he might exonerate himself. Instead, he said:

”Some day, Sh.e.l.lington, you'll apologize to me for your implied accusation. You have taken--”

”Pardon me,” Horace interrupted, ”but I must ask you to leave. I'm going to Governor Vandecar.”

No sooner had his visitor closed the door than Horace stooped and picked up the paper from under his foot. Going to the window, he opened the sheet, smoothed it out, and read:

”_Mr. Brimbecomb_.--

”I told you I got the letter you wrote me, and you know I can't ever love you. I hate your kisses--they made me lie to Sister Ann, and I couldn't tell Brother Horace how it happened. I am going back to Lem and Pappy Lon to Ithaca because you and Pappy Lon said as how I must or they would kill Brother Horace. But I hate you, I hate you--and I will always hate you.

FLEDRA CRONK.”

Like a brand of fire, every word seared the reader's brain. As his hand crushed the letter, Horace's head dropped down on his arm, and deep sobs shook him. The girl had gone for his sake, and was now braving unspeakable dangers to save him from an evil trumped up by his enemies.

Tense-muscled, he sprang to his feet and rushed into the hall.

”My G.o.d! What a fool I've been! Ann, Ann! Here, read this!” His words, p.r.o.nounced in a voice unlike his own, were almost incoherent. He threw the paper at the trembling girl, as he continued, ”Brimbecomb dropped it on the floor. Now I think Governor Vandecar will help me! I'm going to Ithaca!”

With the letter held tightly in her hands, the woman read over twice the pitiful denunciation; then, tearless and strong, she went to her brother.

”What--what are you going to do for her first, Dear?”