Trove sat in council with Mary and Theron Allen. He was now indebt to the doctor; he needed money, also, for clothing and bootsand an enterprise all had been discussing.
"I'll give you three hundred dollars for the mare," said Allen.
Trove sat in thoughtful silence, and, presently, Allen went out ofdoors. The woman got her savings and brought them to her son.
"There is twenty-three dollars, an' it may help you," she whispered.
"No, mother; I can't take it," said the young man. "I owe you morenow than I can ever pay. I shall have to sell the mare. It's agreat trial to me, but--but I suppose honour is better than horses."
"Well, I've a surprise for you," said she, bringing a roll of clothfrom the bedroom. "Those two old maids spun the wool, and I woveit, and, see, it's all been fulled."
"You're as good as gold, mother, and so are they. It's grand towear in the country, but I'm going away and ought to have an extragood suit. I'd like to look as fine as any of the village boys,and they don't wear homespun. But I'll have plenty of use for it."
Next day he walked to Jericho Mills and paid the doctor. He wenton to Milldam, buying there a handsome new outfit of clothing.Then he called to see the President of the bank--that one which hadset the dogs of the law on him.
"You know I put three thousand dollars in the bank ofHillsborough," said Trove, when he sat facing the official. "Itook the money there, believing it to be mine. If, however, it isyours, I wish to turn it over to you."
"It is not our money," said the President. "That bundle was senthere, and we investigated every bill--a great task, for there weresome three hundred of them. Many are old bills and two the issueof banks gone out of business. It's all a very curious problem.They would not have received this money, but they knew of therobbery and suspected you at once. Now we believe absolutely inyour honour."
"I shall put that beyond all question," said Trove, rising.
He took the cars to Hillsborough. There he went to the Sign of theDial and built a fire in its old stove. The clocks were nowhushed. He found those Darrel had written of and delivered them.Returning, he began to wind the cherished clocks of the tinker--oldones he had gathered here and there in his wandering--and to starttheir pendulums. One of them--a tall clock in the corner with acalendar-dial--had this legend on the inner side of its door:--
"Halted in memory of a good man, Its hands pointing to the moment of his death, Its voice hushed in his honour."
Trove shut the door of the old clock and hurried to the publicattorney's office, where he got the address of Leblanc. He metmany who shook his hand warmly and gave him a pleasant word. Hewas in great fear of meeting Polly, and thought of what he shoulddo and say if he came face to face with her. Among others he metthe school principal.
"Coming back to work?" the latter inquired.
"No, sir; I've got to earn money."
"We need another teacher, and I'll recommend you."
"I'm much obliged, but I couldn't come before the fall term," saidTrove.
"I'll try to keep the place for you," said his friend, as theyparted.
Trove came slowly down the street, thinking how happy he could benow, if Darrel were free and Polly had only trusted him. Near theSign of the Dial he met Thurston Tilly.
"Back again?" Trove inquired.
"Back again. Boss gi'n up farmin'."
"Did he make his fortune?"
"No, he had one give to him."
"Come and tell me about it."
Tilly followed Trove up the old stairway into the little shop.
"Beg yer pardon," said Thurst, turning, as they sat down, "are youarmed?"
"No," said Trove, smiling.
"A man shot me once when I wan't doin' nothin' but tryin' t' tell astory, an' I don't take no chances. Do you remember my bosstellin' that night in the woods how he lost his money in the fireo' '35?"
"Yes."
"Wal, I guess it had suthin' t' do with that. One day the boss an'me was out in the door-yard, an' a stranger come along. 'You'reJohn Thompson,' says he to the boss; 'An' you're so an' so,' saysthe boss. I don't eggzac'ly remember the name he give." Tillystopped to think.
"Can you describe him?" Trove inquired.
"He was a big man with white whiskers an' hair, an' he wore lightbreeches an' a short, blue coat."
"Again the friend of Darrel," Trove thought.
"Did you tell the tinker about your boss the night we were all atRobin's Inn last summer?"
"I told him the whole story, an' he pumped me dry. I'd answer him,an' he'd holler 'Very well,' an' shoot another question at me."
"Well, Thurst, go on with your story."
"Couldn't tell ye jest what happened. They went off int' thehouse. Nex' day the boss tol' me he wa'n't no longer a poor manan' was goin' t' sell his farm an' leave for Californy. In atavern near where we lived the stranger died sudden that night, an'the funeral was at our house, an' he was buried there in Iowy."
Trove walked to the bench and stood a moment looking out of awindow.
"Strange!" said he, returning presently with tearful eyes. "Do youremember the date?"
"'Twas a Friday, 'bout the middle o' September."
Trove turned, looking up at the brazen dial of the tall clock. Itindicated four-thirty in the morning of September 19th.
"Were there any with him when he died?"
"Yes, the tavern keeper--it was some kind of a stroke they told me."
"And your boss--did he go to California?" Trove asked.
"He sold the farm an' went to Californy. I worked there a while,but the boss an' me couldn't agree, an' so I pulled up an' trottedfer home."
"To what part of California did Thompson go?"
"Hadn't no idee where he would stick his stakes. He was goin' int' the gold business."
Trove sat busy with his own thoughts while Thurston Tilly, warmingto new confidence, boiled over with enthusiasm for the far west. Aschool friend of the boy came, by and by, whereupon Tilly whistledon his thumb and hurried away.
"Did you know," said the newcomer, when Trove and he were alone,"that Roberts--the man who tried to send you up--is a young lawyerand is going to settle here? He and Polly are engaged."
"Engaged!"
"So he gave me to understand."
"Well, if she loves him and he's a good fellow, I 've no right tocomplain," Trove answered.
"I don't believe that he's a good fellow," said the other.
"Why do you say that?"
"Well, a detective is--is--"
"A necessary evil?" Trove suggested.
"Just that," said the other. "He must pretend to be what he isn'tand--well, a gentleman is not apt to sell himself for that purpose,Now he's trying to convince people that you knew as much about thecrime as Darrel. In my opinion he isn't honest. Good looks andfine raiment are all there is to that fellow--take my word for it."
"You're inclined to judge him harshly," said Trove. "But I'mworried, for I fear he's unworthy of her and---and I must leavetown to-morrow."
"Shall you go to see her?"
"No; not until I know more about him. I have friends here and theywill give her good counsel. Soon they'll know what kind of a manhe is, and, if necessary, they'll warn her. I'm beset withtrouble, but, thank God, I know which way to turn."