Part 35 (2/2)

Colonel Price went to the mantel and filled his pipe from the tobacco-jar. He sat smoking for a little while, his paper on his knee.

”The lad's in deeper trouble, I'm afraid, than he understands,” said he at last, as if continuing his reflections aloud, ”and it may take a bigger heave to pull him out than any of us think right now.”

”Oh, I hope not,” said Alice, looking across at him suddenly, her eyes wide open with concern. ”I understood that this was just a preliminary proceeding, a sort of formality to conform to the legal requirements, and that he would be released when they brought him up before Judge Maxwell. At least, that was the impression that he gave me of the case himself.”

”Joe is an unsophisticated and honest lad,” said the colonel. ”There is something in the case that he refused to disclose or discuss before the coroner's jury, they say. I don't know what it is, but it's in relation to the quarrel between him and Isom Chase which preceded the tragedy. He seems to raise a point of honor on it, or something. I heard them say this afternoon that it was nothing but the fear that it would disclose his motive for the crime. They say he was making off with old Chase's money, but I don't believe that.”

”They're wrong if they think that,” said she, shaking her head seriously, ”he'd never do a thing like that.”

”No, I don't believe he would. But they found a bag of money in the room, old Chase had it clamped in the hook of his arm, they say.”

”Well, I'm sure Joe Newbolt never had his hands on it, anyhow,” said she.

”That's right,” approved the colonel, nodding in slow thoughtfulness; ”we must stand up for him, for his own sake as well as Peter's. He's worthy.”

”And he's innocent. Can't you see that, father?”

”As plain as daylight,” the colonel said.

The colonel stretched out his legs toward the blaze, crossed his feet and smoked in comfort.

”But I wonder what it can be that the boy's holding back?”

”He has a reason for it, whatever it is,” she declared.

”That's as certain as taxes,” said the colonel. ”He's a remarkable boy, considering the chances he's had--bound out like a n.i.g.g.e.r slave, and beaten and starved, I'll warrant. A remark-able lad; very, very. Don't you think so, Alice?”

”I think he is, indeed,” said she.

A long silence.

A stick in the chimney burned in two, the heavy ends outside the dogs dropped down, the red brands pointing upward. The colonel put his hand to his beard and sat in meditation. The wind was rising. Now and then it sounded like a groan in the chimney-top. Gray ashes formed, frost-like, over the ardent coals. The silence between them held unbroken.

Both sat, thought-wandering, looking into the fire....

CHAPTER XIII

UNTIL THE DAY BREAK

Although Isom Chase had been in his grave a week, and Judge Little had been cracking his coat-tails over the road between his home and the county-seat daily, the matter of the will and the administration of the estate remained as in the beginning.

Judge Little had filed the will for probate, and had made application for letters of administration, which the court had denied. Under the terms of the will, it was pointed out, he was empowered to act in that capacity only in case of the testator's death before the majority of the legatee. The date of the doc.u.ment proved that the heir was now long past his majority, and the only interest that remained to Judge Little in the matter seemed to be the discovery of the testator's unknown, unseen, and unbelieved-in son.

If Isom ever had fathered a son, indeed, and the child had died in infancy, the fact had slipped the recollection of the oldest settler.

Perhaps the proof of that mysterious matter lay in the hands of the two witnesses to Isom's will. They should know, if anybody knew, people said.

One of these witnesses, Thomas Cogshawl, had died long since, and there remained behind neither trace nor remembrance of him save a leaning, yellowed tombstone carrying the record of his achievements in this world. They were succinctly recounted in two words: Born and Died. His descendants were scattered, his family dispersed.

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