Keziah Coffin Part 23

She, too, was pale for a moment, and then crimson.

"Thank you," she gasped. "I--I must go. It is late. I didn't realize how late it was. I--I must go."

He did not answer, though he tried to.

"I must go," she said hurriedly, speaking at random. "Good afternoon.

Good-by. I hope you will enjoy your walk."

"I have enjoyed it." His answer was unstudied but emphatic. She recognized the emphasis.

"Will you come to see Mrs. Coffin?" he asked.

"No, no. You know I can't. Good-by. The sunset is beautiful, isn't it?"

"Beautiful, indeed."

"Yes. I--I think the sunsets from this point are the finest I have ever seen. I come here every Sunday afternoon to see them."

This remark was given merely to cover embarra.s.sment, but it had an unexpected effect.

"You DO?" cried the minister. The next moment he was alone. Grace Van Horne had vanished in the gloom of the pine thickets.

It was a strange John Ellery who walked slowly back along the path, one that Keziah herself would not have recognized, to say nothing of Captain Elkanah and the parish committee. The dignified parson, with the dignified walk and calm, untroubled brow, was gone, and here was an absent-minded young fellow who stumbled blindly along, tripping over roots and dead limbs, and caring nothing, apparently, for the damage to his Sunday boots and trousers which might result from the stumbles. He saw nothing real, and heard nothing, not even the excited person who, hidden behind the bayberry bush, hailed him as he pa.s.sed. It was not until this person rushed forth and seized him by the arm that he came back to the unimportant affairs of this material earth.

"Why! Why, Mr. Pepper!" he gasped. "Are you here? What do you want?"

"Am I here?" panted Kyan. "Ain't I been here for the last twenty minutes waitin' to get a chance at you? Ain't I been chasin' you from Dan to Beersheby all this dummed--excuse me--afternoon? Oh, my G.o.dfreys mighty!"

"Why, what's the matter?"

"Matter? Matter enough! It's all your fault. You got me into the mess, now you git me out of it."

Usually, when Abishai addressed his clergyman, it was in a tone of humble respect far different from his present frantic a.s.sault. The Reverend John was astounded.

"What IS the trouble, Mr. Pepper?" he demanded. "Behave yourself, man.

What IS it?"

"You--you made me do it," gurgled Kyan. "Yes, sir, 'twas you put me up to it. When you was at our house t'other day, after Laviny locked me up, you told me the way to get square was to lock her up, too. And I done it! Yes, sir, I done it when she got back from meetin' this noon. I run off and left her locked in. And--and"--he wailed, wringing his hands--"I--I ain't dast to go home sence. WHAT'll I do?"

CHAPTER IX

IN WHICH MISS DANIELS DETERMINES TO FIND OUT

The hysterical Mr. Pepper doubtless expected his clergyman to be almost as much upset as he was by the news of his action. But John Ellery was provokingly calm. As a matter of fact he scarcely grasped the purport of the little man's disjointed story. He had been wandering in dreamland, his head among the clouds, and the explosion of Keziah's bomb disturbed, but did not clear the air.

"What will you do?" he repeated. "Why--er--I don't know, I'm sure."

Kyan was staggered.

"You don't know?" he shouted. "YOU don't? Then who does, for the land sakes? Didn't you tell me to lock her up? Didn't I do it 'CAUSE you told me? Didn't--didn't--"

He seemed to be on the verge of apoplexy. Also he had raised his voice to a yell. The minister seized him by the arm and shook him into silence.

"Hush! hush!" he commanded. "Wait a minute. Let me understand this thing. Some one is locked up, you say. Who is it? Where--"

"WHO is it? Ain't I tellin' you. It's Laviny. She went into that spare room where I was t'other day and I slammed the spring lock to on her.

Then I grabbed the key and run. That was afore three this afternoon; now it's 'most night and I ain't dast to go home. What'll she say when I let her out? I got to let her out, ain't I? She can't starve to death in there, can she? And YOU told me to do it! YOU did! Oh--"

The apoplectic attack was once more imminent.

"Stop it, Mr. Pepper," ordered Ellery. "I don't remember telling you to lock your sister up, though--Why, yes, I may have said something or other, as a joke, but I didn't expect you would seriously consider doing such a thing. Ha, ha! This is the most idiotic piece of business that I ever--"

"Be you laughin'?" demanded the shocked Abishai. "LAUGHIN'? Why, my G.o.dfreys mighty! Idiotic? Well, who's the idiot? 'Tain't me! I'D never have thought of such a fool trick. But you said--"

"Hush! Let me think. Have you told anybody?"

"TOLD anybody! I guess NOT. And n.o.body'll never know if they wait for me to tell 'em."

"Well, then, I don't see why you can't go home and--hum--I don't like to advise your telling a lie, but you might let her infer that it was an accident. OR, if you really mean to be your own master, you can tell her you did it purposely and will do it again if she ever tries the trick on you."

"I tell her that! I tell her! O Mr. Ellery, DON'T talk so. You don't know Laviny; she ain't like most women. If I should tell her that she'd--I don't know's she wouldn't take and horsewhip me. Or commit suicide. She's said she would afore now if--if--"

"Nonsense! She won't do that, you needn't worry." He burst into another laugh, but checked himself, as he saw the look of absolute distress on poor Kyan's face.

"Never mind, Mr. Pepper," he said. "We'll think of some plan to smooth matters over. I'll go home with you now and we'll let her out together."

"Will you, Mr. Ellery? Will you, honest? Say, by G.o.dfreys mighty, I'd get down on my knees and thank you this minute if--if I wa'n't in such a hurry. Come right on; come quick!"

It was a silent procession of two that wended its way out of the pines and across the fields, by the brook and the pond, where the evening mists were rising and the frogs chanting their good-night song, through the gathering twilight shades, across the main road and up the lighthouse lane. Kyan, his mind filled with fearful forebodings, was busily trying to think of a reasonable excuse for the "accidental"

imprisonment of his sister. John Ellery was thinking, also, but his thoughts were not of the Peppers.

The little house was dark and still as they approached it. No welcoming light in the dining-room windows, no open door, no shrill voice demanding to know where the wandering brother had been "all this everlastin' time." Even the hens had gone to roost. Abishai groaned.

"Oh, dear!" he wailed. "I'm scart to death. Where is she? You don't cal'late she's done it, do ye?"

"Done it? Done what?"

"Done the suicidin'. She said she would if--O Laviny!"

"Hush! Be quiet. She's all right. She's in the room where you left her, of course. She couldn't get out, could she? You've got the key. Come in."

They entered the house. The dining room was dark and quiet. So was the sitting room. The clock ticked, solemn and slow. Kyan clutched at his companion's arm.

"I don't hear her," he whispered. "You don't s'pose she HAS done it?

G.o.dfreys mighty!"

The gloom and mystery were having their effect, even on Mr. Ellery's nerves. His answer also was given in a tense whisper, but with some irritation.