Part 35 (1/2)
”So you've heard about it, have you?” Jasper questioned.
”Oh, yes. The whole country is wild with the news. I have been talking to a number of people and they are greatly worked up over the cowardly deed. Poor old David! He certainly was an innocent cuss.”
”When did you first hear about it?” Jasper enquired.
”Not until late this morning. I am a sound sleeper.”
”You surely must be. I don't see how any man could sleep with all the noise the men made pa.s.sing along the road last night. Were you up late, eh?”
”What do you mean?” and an angry light leaped into Bramshaw's eyes. ”I wish you to know that I went to sleep with the birds last night.”
”I am glad to hear of it. You didn't always keep such good hours, especially one night when I caught you prowling about my place.
Perhaps a hint to the wise was sufficient, and you have changed your manner of living.”
”D---- you!” Bramshaw cried, rising to his feet. ”I was willing to be friendly with you, but you insult me to my face.”
”That's much better than insulting you behind your back, isn't it? You are sure who does it and you can act accordingly.”
”Is that a challenge to fight?”
”Take it any way you like. I am anxious to get my hands on somebody to-day, for I want a little exercise. I'm getting tired of doing nothing.”
”But there's nothing to be gained by fighting,” Bramshaw protested.
”What reason have we for fighting?”
Jasper gave a sarcastic laugh, and looked the artist up and down.
”You certainly wouldn't gain much by fighting, but I would. Sydney Bramshaw, I believe you are a miserable sneak, ay, and worse, and it would be a great satisfaction for me to get my hands on your measly carca.s.s just for two minutes.”
Under the impulse of the moment Jasper had left the road and approached close to the artist. The latter shrank back and his face paled at the action of his formidable opponent.
”Bah! I wouldn't touch you,” Jasper sneered. ”I wouldn't spoil your nice clothes and your soft delicate hands. Oh, no. Go on with your work of painting the beautiful things in nature.”
For a few seconds Jasper stood and looked upon the man cowering before him. He longed to pierce his very soul that he might learn whether his suspicious were really true. He was tempted to startle him with a question about that envelope. But, no, he felt that it would be better to consult the lawyer before saying anything.
Leaving the artist, Jasper regained the highway with a bound, and hurried onward. It did not take him long now to reach the road leading to the Haven, and his angry mood pa.s.sed like a cloud from the face of the sun when he saw Lois standing there beneath the shade of a large tree. Her eyes brightened when she saw him, and without a word she held out her hand. For a few heartbeats neither spoke, but their eyes met, and Jasper knew by the look that Lois gave him that she at least was true and believed in him.
”You know all?” he stammered.
”No, not all,” was the quiet reply. ”But I know enough to make me certain that the people in this place are wrong in their suspicions.”
”Whom do they suspect?” Jasper eagerly asked, thinking that perhaps he might learn something new.
”Don't you know?”
”Yes, I'm afraid I do,” Jasper bitterly replied. ”But I can endure it if I know that you believe me to be innocent.”
”I certainly do, no matter what others think.”
”What proof have you?”