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Billy grew thoughtful. "I hadn't thought o' that," he said slowly. "It's pine, too, ain't it? It 'ud carve fine.",
"Well I kept mine by havin' a good pair of legs," groaned Fatty. "I'm not denyin' that. And by gravy, if they had been good enough fer a thousand miles I'd've let 'em go the limit. Scared! Oh yowlin' wildcats! I'll see ghosts an' smell brimstone the rest o' my life.",
"May I have a word with you, sir?" he exclaimed in a coarse, hoarse, broken voice.,
"It's Croaker," Billy whispered. "Stand right still, Lou, an' we'll watch an' find out what his game is."
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CHAPTER XIII ERIE OF THE LIGHT-HOUSE,
Anson squatted down beside Maurice. "No, by gosh! you're not so far wrong," he admitted, ruefully. "Somebody is layin' fer me, an' layin' fer me right. It's Bill. Say, Maurice, won't you try an' get him to let me off this time. If you will I won't ferget it in a hurry.",
"You shall never find me one!" he cried with impetuosity. "But I am to win you, and will you tell me the poet or the philosopher who has ever spoken of the strategies employed in love as villainy?",
He came from the kitchen garden and was standing in the middle of the lawn, where he obtained a view of the sea betwixt the bluff on which stood the windmill and the other bluff on which stood the lighthouse. He sent his gaze in the direction of Old Harbour. It was a heedless gaze. He took no particular note. Alongside the wharves a number of small vessels were moored. They somewhat crowded the eye with their rigging and spars. The brig-of-war lay in her accustomed place off the pier. Apparently it was not Lieutenant Tupman's intention to put to sea that day.
He endeavoured to recollect himself that, by calming his terrors his memory might better serve him. Urgent alarms often induce vain hopes which we should laugh at in the cool mood. He believed he might have put that letter down in his bedroom, and perfectly well knowing that he had not done so, and yet coaxed by a will-o'-the-wisp hope, he ransacked the room as though he knew that in it was to be found a gold piece of value whose discovery demanded a careful search only. What was certain in his mind was that that letter was in his pocket when he walked that morning to visit the Minorca. He remembered withdrawing it from his pocket, but in what part of the walk he knew not, and re-perusing a portion of it to refresh his memory. He tried to find comfort in the recollection that the letter bore no address and no signature. But a thundercloud of horror came down on this feeble streak of sunshine when he recalled the damning, incriminating contents of that sheet[Pg 152] which he had scrawled in pencil at "The Swan Inn." Whoever found it would know that Mr Lawrence, and Mr Lawrence alone, had written it, and this, too, irrespective of the handwriting.
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Developer Response,
"Findin' Scroggie's money an' will, you mean?"
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He was seated on a stump in the new clearing which sloped to Levee Creek, fingers locked about one knee, battered felt hat pulled over his eyes. The green slope at his feet lay half in the sunlight, half in the shadow. Across from a patch of golden-rod, the cock bird of a fox-scattered quail-covey whistled the "All's Well" call to the birds in hiding. Ordinarily Billy would have answered that call, would have drawn the brown, scuttling birds close about him with the low-whistled notes he could produce so well: but today he was oblivious to all save his thoughts.
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"Well, Tom, I reckon it's none of our funeral whether it turns up or not," growled the other. "We're gettin' paid well fer what we're doin', ain't we? If it turns up, Scroggie and the boss'll have to do their own worryin'."
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Halin-Chen Response,
>"Ner me, either. I guess we'll have to give up the hunt fer t'night, Maurice. Anyways, we don't know jest how to work ol' Harry's fairy arrer."
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