The Tale of Timber Town Part 61

"No fear of that, after what I've told him. That man will shun this house as if it was his grave. Well, good night."

He took Gentle Annie's face between his hands. Then he held her at arms'

length, and gazed steadfastly into her face. And, the next moment, he was gone.

The girl turned the nuggets over and over with a listless finger. "Men, men," she murmured, "how madly jealous--and when there is so little need. As if I care for one a pennyworth more than another."

CHAPTER x.x.xV.

Bail.

The Pilot of Timber Town sat in his dining-room in the many-gabled house; Captain Sartoris sat opposite him, and both looked as miserable as men could possibly look.

"It's a bad business, a terrible bad business," said Captain Summerhayes, "to be charged with robbery and cold-blooded murder. I was in the Court. I heard the Resident Magistrate commit him to the Supreme Court. 'Your Worship,' says Jack, 'on what evidence do you commit me? I own that I was on the road to Canvas Town, but there is nothing wrong in that: there is no evidence against me.' An' no more there is. I stake all I've got on his innocence; I stake my life on it."

"Same here, same here, Summerhayes," said Sartoris. "But I don't see how that helps him. I don't see it helps him worth tuppence. He's still in the lock-up."

"It helps 'im this much," said the old Pilot: "he can be bailed out, can't he?--and we're the men to do it."

"We'd need to be made o' money, man. Ten thousand pound wouldn't bail 'im."

"We'll see, we'll see. Rosebud, my gal!" The Pilot's gruff voice thundered through the house. "We'll put it to the test, Sartoris; we'll put it to the test."

Rose Summerhayes hurried from the kitchen; the sleeves of her blouse tucked up, and her hands and arms covered with flour.

"What is it, father?"

"Young Scarlett's in prison," growled the Pilot, "and there he's likely to stay till the sitting of the Supreme Court."

The pink in Rose's pretty face turned as white as the flour she had been kneading. "Have they found him guilty, father?"

"Not exactly that, my gal, but it looks black for the lad, as black as the pit."

"But he's _not_ guilty!" cried the girl. "Nothing will persuade me to believe that."

"We must bail him out," said her father. "Bring me my deed-box."

Rose rustled from the room, and presently returned with a square, j.a.panned, tin box, which bore her father's initials upon its lid.

The Pilot took a bunch of keys from his pocket, and quickly unlocked the box.

Upon the bare, polished table he placed a number of Bank deposit receipts.

"I can't do it," he said; "no more can Sartoris. But _you_ can, my gal.

Just add up these amounts, Cap'n, while I explain." He handed the receipts to Sartoris.

"It isn't often I've mentioned your uncle to you, Rosebud. But he's a rich man, more than ordinary rich, my dear. Ever since you were a little dot, so high, he's sent me money as reg'lar as the clock. I've never asked 'im for it, mind ye; and, what's more, I've never spent a penny of it. I wouldn't touch it, because I don't bear him any love whatever.

Before you was born, my gal, he did me a most unforgivable wrong, an'

he thinks money will wipe it out. But it won't: no, no, it won't.

Howsomever, I banked all that money in your name, as it kept coming in; and there it's been piling up, till I don't really know how much there mayn't be. What's the total, Sartoris? Give us the total, man."

But the Captain had forgotten his calculation, in open-mouthed astonishment.

"'Arf-a-minute, 'arf-a-minute," he said, quickly giving his attention to the papers which lay before him. "Fifteen hundred and two thousand is three thousand, five hundred; and thirteen hundred is four thousand, eight hundred; and seven hundred and seventy-five is---- Why, there's more money here than ever I saw in a skipper's house before. I'll need a pencil and a bit o' paper, Miss Rose. There's a mint o' money--as much as would bail out a duke."

Supplied with stationery, he slowly made his calculation; the Pilot watching him unconcernedly, and Rose checking the amounts one by one.

At last he found his total, and drew a line under it.

"Well, what is it?" asked the Pilot.

"I make it ten thousand, seven hundred and seventy-five pound," he said.

"Goodness, girl, here's all this money!--and you baking and scrubbing as if you was a servant. Summerhayes," he added, turning upon the Pilot, "I think you've been doing an injustice, sir; a gross injustice."

"Personally," replied the Pilot, "I don't intend to receive a pennyworth o' benefit from that money. If the gal likes to be a lady now, there's nothing to stop her; but I don't share in the spending o' that money, not in a penny of it. Of that I'm determined."

"You're a contumacious, cantankerous old barnacle," retorted Sartoris, "that's what you are. It'd serve you right if your daughter was to cut the painter and cast you adrift, and leave you to sink or swim."

"We can very well settle that point by and by, Sartoris. The present question is, Shall we bail out young Scarlett, or not? I put it to you, Rosebud. Here's all this money--what are you going to do with it? If you go bail for Scarlett and he runs away, you'll lose it. If he stands his trial, then you'll get it all back and have the knowledge, I believe, that you helped an innocent man. Which will you do?"

"I couldn't hesitate," replied Rose. "I'm sure Mr. Scarlett wouldn't commit such a dreadful crime as that he's charged with. I--I--feel," her breath caught in her throat, and she gave vent to something very like a sob, "I should be glad to do anything to get him out of prison."

"Quite right, quite right!" thundered the old Pilot. "There speaks my gal, Sartoris; there speaks my dar'ter, Rosebud!" Rising from his chair, he kissed her heartily, and stood, regarding her with pride and pleasure.

"My dear young lady," said Sartoris, as he took Rose's hand in his, and warmly pressed it, "it does you great honour. Young Mr. Scarlett an' me was shipmates; we was wrecked together. I know that lad better than I know my own brother--and, I say, you may safely back your opinion of him to any amount."

"Get my hat, gal," said the Pilot. "We'll be going."

And so, after she had hastily performed her toilet, Rose walked into town, with the two old sea-dogs as an escort.

First, they went to the Kangaroo Bank, where the Pilot placed the sheaf of deposit receipts on the manager's table, and said, "It comes to something over ten thousand pound, sir. What we want to know is, will you allow my dar'ter to draw five or ten thousand, and no questions asked?"

"Ah--really," said Mr. Tomkinson, "it would be most unusual. These deposits are made for a term, and the rule of the bank is that they can't be drawn against."

"Then what is the good of all this money to my gal, if she can't use it?"

"She can draw it as it falls due."

"But suppose that don't suit? Suppose my dar'ter wants it at once, what then?"

The manager rubbed his chin: that was his only reply.

"These bits o' paper are supposed to be as good as gold," continued the Pilot, rustling the receipts as they lay upon the table, "ain't they?"

"Better," said the manager, "in some ways much better."