On the afternoon of the third day he sat before his workbench, his knee clasped between his hands, his foot swinging, and his thoughts busy with the situation in all its alarming phases.It had been bad enough before this new development, bad enough when the always present danger of Phillips' secret being discovered had become complicated by his falling in love with his employer's daughter.
But now-- Suppose the boy had stolen the money? Suppose he was being blackmailed by some one whom he must pay or face exposure?
Jed had read of such things; they happened often enough in novels.
He did not hear the door of the outer shop open.A month or more ago he had removed the bell from the door.His excuse for so doing had been characteristic.
"I can't stand the wear and tear on my morals," he told Ruth."Iain't sold anything, except through the mail, since the winter really set in.And yet every time that bell rings I find myself jumpin' up and runnin' to wait on a customer.When it turns out to be Gabe Bearse or somebody like him I swear, and swearin' to me is like whiskey to some folks--comfortin' but demoralizin'."So the bell having been removed, Jed did not hear the person who came into and through the outer shop.The first sign of that person's presence which reached his ears was an unpleasant chuckle.
He turned, to see Mr.Phineas Babbitt standing in the doorway of the inner room.And--this was the most annoying and disturbing fact connected with the sight--the hardware dealer was not scowling, he was laughing.The Winslow foot fell to the floor with a thump and its owner sat up straight.
"He, he, he!" chuckled Phineas.Jed regarded him silently.
Babbitt's chuckle subsided into a grin.Then he spoke.
"Well," he observed, with sarcastic politeness, "how's the great Shavin's Jedidah, the famous inventor of whirlagigs? He, he, he!"Jed slowly shook his head."Phin," he said, "either you wear rubbers or I'm gettin' deaf, one or the other.How in the world did you get in here this time without my hearin' you?"Phineas ignored the question.He asked one of his own."How's the only original high and mighty patriot this afternoon?" he sneered.
The Winslow hand caressed the Winslow chin.
"If you mean me, Phin," drawled Jed, "I'm able to sit up and take nourishment, thank you.I judge you must be kind of ailin', though.Take a seat, won't you?""No, I won't.I've got other fish to fry, bigger fish than you, at that""Um-hm.Well, they wouldn't have to be sperm whales to beat me, Phin.Be kind of hard to fry 'em if they was too big, wouldn't it?""They're goin' to fry, you hear me.Yes, and they're goin' to sizzle.He, he, he!"Mr.Winslow sadly shook his head."You must be awful sick, Phin,"he drawled."That's the third or fourth time you've laughed since you came in here."His visitor stopped chuckling and scowled instead.Jed beamed gratification.
"That's it," he said."Now you look more natural.Feelin' a little better...eh?"The Babbitt chin beard bristled.Its wearer leaned forward.
"Shut up," he commanded."I ain't takin' any of your sass this afternoon, Shavin's, and I ain't cal'latin' to waste much time on you, neither.You know where I'm bound now? Well, I'm bound up to the Orham National Bank to call on my dear friend Sam Hunniwell.
He, he, he! I've got a little bit of news for him.He's in trouble, they tell me, and I want to help him out....Blast him!"This time Jed made no reply; but he, too, leaned forward and his gaze was fixed upon the hardware dealer's face.There was an expression upon his own face which, when Phineas saw it, caused the latter to chuckle once more.
"He, he!" he laughed."What's the matter, Shavin's? You look kind of scared about somethin'.'Tain't possible you've known all along what I've just found out? I wonder if you have.Have you?"Still Jed was silent.Babbit grunted.
"It don't make any difference whether you have or not," he said.
"But if you ain't I wonder what makes you look so scared.There's nothin' to be scared about, as I see.I'm just cal'latin' to do our dear old chummie, Cap'n Sam, a kindness, that's all.He's lost some money up there to the bank, I understand.Some says it's four thousand dollars and some says it's forty.It don't make any difference, that part don't.Whatever 'tis it's missin' and I'm going to tell him where to find it.That's real good of me, ain't it? Ain't it, Shavin's; eh?"The little man's malignant spite and evident triumph were actually frightening.And it was quite evident that Jed was frightened.
Yet he made an effort not to appear so.
"Yes," he agreed."Yes, yes, seems 's if 'twas.Er--er-- Where is it, Phin?"Phineas burst out laughing."'Where is it, Phin?'" he repeated, mockingly."By godfreys mighty, I believe you do know where 'tis, Shavin's! You ain't gettin' any of it, are you? You ain't dividin' up with the blasted jailbird?"Jed was very pale.His voice shook as he essayed to speak.
"Wh-what jailbird?" he faltered."What do you mean? What--what are you talkin' about, Phin?""'What are you talkin' about, Phin?' God sakes, hear him, will you! All right, I'll tell you what I'm talkin' about.I'm talkin'
about Sam Hunniwell's pet, his new bookkeeper up there to the bank.
I'm talkin' about that stuck-up, thievin' hypocrite of a Charlie Phillips, that's who I'm talkin' about.I called him a jailbird, didn't I? Well, he is.He's served his term in the Connecticut State's prison for stealin'.And I know it."Jed groaned aloud.Here it was at last.The single hair had parted and the sword had fallen.And now, of all times, now! He made a pitiful attempt at denial.
"It ain't so," he protested.
