Left alone, Elisha gloomily pursued his way to his own cottage and entering it by the side door passed through the back hall and upstairs.

From the shed he could hear May Ellen, his housekeeper, singing lustily as she mopped the floor to the refrain of Smile, Smile, Smile.

The sentiment jarred on him. He could not smile.

Going to the closet, he took out his Sunday suit, shook it, and with the air of one making ready his shroud, spread it upon the bed. It exhaled a pungent, funereal mustiness, particularly disagreeable at the moment.

Next he produced a boiled shirt, a collar, and a black tie.

It took him some time to assemble these infrequently used accessories, and he was dismayed to find no collar-button.

Nervously he searched the drawers, tossing their contents upside down in fruitless quest for this indispensable article.

A collar-button was the corner-stone of his toilet—the object on which everything else depended. Should it fail to be forthcoming, the game was up. He could not administer the law without it.

Perhaps, viewing the matter from every angle, its disappearance was a fortunate, rather than an unfortunate, omen.

Now that he had had time for sober reflection, the enterprise on which he had embarked appeared a foolhardy—almost mad undertaking. To grapple with an experienced criminal was suicidal. It was bad enough to do so if forced into the dilemma by chance. But to seek out such an issue deliberately! He wondered what he had been thinking of. Excitement had swept him off his feet and put to rout both his caution and his common sense.

He wished with all his heart he had never mentioned the matter to Eleazer. But for that, he could pull out of it and no one would be the wiser.

Suppose the criminal did escape? Were not lawbreakers doing so every day?

One more at large could make little difference in the general moral tone of society. Anyway, no criminal—no matter what a rascal he might be, was worth the sacrifice of a man's life—particularly his life, argued Elisha.

But, alas, there was Eleazer to whom he had precipitately confided the entire story!

No, there was no possibility of his backing out of the affair now and washing his hands of it. He must go through with it.

Nevertheless, he would postpone the moment for action as long as he was able.

Therefore, instead of donning his official garb, he went down stairs to hunt up his badge and handcuffs. These he kept in the drawer of the tall secretary in the sitting-room and although he had not seen them for months, he felt certain they would still be there.

In order to make no noise and arouse May Ellen's phenomenal curiosity, he took off his shoes.

To his consternation, the drawer was empty!

And not only was it empty but it had been left open as if a marauder possessed of sticky hands had hastily abandoned it.

Elisha paused, confounded. Who could have taken these symbols of the law? Who would wish to take them? Certainly not May Ellen.

Even if her inquiring mind had prompted her to ransack his property, she was far too honest a person to make off with it. Furthermore, what use could a peaceable woman have for a sheriff's badge and a pair of handcuffs?

Unwilling to believe the articles were gone, Elisha peered feverishly into every corner the piece of furniture contained. He even hauled out the books and ran his hand along the grimy shelves behind them. But beyond a thick coating of dust, nothing rewarded his search.

At length, as a last resort, he reluctantly shouted for May Ellen.

She came, a drab woman—thin-haired, hollow-chested with a wiry, hipless figure and protruding teeth.

"Wal, sir?"

"May Ellen, who's been explorin' this secretary of mine? Some of the things that oughter be in it, ain't," blustered he.

"What things?"

The woman's eye was faded, but it held a quality that warned the sheriff she was not, perhaps, as spiritless as she looked.

"Oh—oh, just some little things I was huntin' for," he amended, adopting a more conciliatory tone.

"If I knew what they was, I could tell you better where they might be lurkin'."

Alas, there was no help for it!

"I'm lookin' for my handcuffs an' sheriff's badge," answered Elisha.

"There ain't been a crime? You ain't goin' to arrest somebody?"

"I ain't at liberty to answer that question just now," replied Elisha with importance.

"Mercy on us! You don't tell me a crime's been committed in Wilton! I guess it's the first time in all the town's history. Won't folks be agog? It'll stir up the whole community."

The sentiment held for Elisha a vaguely familiar ring. As he speculated why, he recalled with dismay that it was he himself who, not a week ago, had brazenly willed the very calamity that had now befallen the village.

To be sure, he spoke in jest. Still it behooved a man to be careful what he wished for. Providence sometimes took folks at their word and answered prayers—even idle ones.

"You mustn't peep about this outside, May Ellen," he cautioned. "Was you to, no end of harm might be done. The criminal, you see, is still at large an' we want to trap him 'fore he suspects we're after him."

"I see," replied the woman with an understanding nod. "I won't breathe a breath of it to a soul. But while we're mentionin' it, I would dearly like to know who the wretch is."

"That's a secret of the law. I ain't free to publish it. You shall be told it, though, soon's the arrest is made. Now 'bout the badge an' handcuffs. You see how important 'tis I should have 'em. They was in the drawer an' they'd oughter be there now. Instead, the whole place is messed up an' sticky as if some person who had no business meddlin' had overhauled it."

He saw May Ellen's faded eyes dilate with sudden terror.

"It's that miserable Tommy Cahoon!" interrupted she. "His mother left him an' Willie here with me a week ago when she went to Sawyer Falls shoppin'. I saw 'em playin' policeman out in the back yard, an' noticed one of 'em was wearin' a badge, but I thought nothin' of it, supposin' they'd brought it with 'em. The little monkeys must 'a' sneaked indoors when I wasn't lookin' an' took that an' the handcuffs. I'm dretful sorry. Still, boys will be boys, I reckon," concluded she with a deprecatory smile and a shrug of her angular shoulders.

"But—but—good Heavens—" sputtered Elisha.

"I'm sure we can find the missin' articles, unless the children took 'em home—which I doubt," went on the woman serenely. "Last I saw of the imps they was out yonder under the apple trees. S'pose we have a look there."

Almost beside himself with an indignation he dared not voice, Elisha followed May Ellen out of doors.

Yes, trampled into the sodden ground lay the badge—its gleaming metal surface defaced by mud, and its fastening broken. There, too, lay the handcuffs, tightly snapped together and without a trace of a key to unlock them.

Elisha, livid with rage, opened his lips prepared to consign to the lower regions not only Tommy and Willie Cahoon, but their mother and May Ellen as well.

Before he could get the words out of his mouth, however, the suave voice of his housekeeper fell gently on his ear.

"'Course you can't lay this mishap up against me, Elisha," she was saying. "I ain't no more responsible for the children's thievin' than you are for the crime of the criminal you're preparin' to arrest. The actions of others are beyond our control. All we can do is to live moral lives ourselves."

"But—but—"

"If you do feel I'm to blame, you'll just have to get somebody else to do your work. I wouldn't stay in no situation an' be regarded as—"

"I ain't blamin' you a mite, May Ellen," Elisha hurriedly broke in, panic-stricken lest his domestic tranquillity trembling so delicately on the brink of cataclysm topple into the void and be swallowed up. "As you say, the doin's of others are somethin' we can't take on our shoulders. Thank you for helpin' me hunt up these things."

As he spoke, he dubiously eyed the muddy objects in his hand. Well, at least, thought he, everything was not lost. He had gained time.

To wear his badge until a new pin was soddered to it was out of the question. In addition, the handcuffs were of no use at all unless a key could be found to unlock them.

He felt like a doomed man who had been granted an unlooked-for reprieve.

Eleazer would be nettled.

When he came steaming back with the revolver he would storm and rage like a bluefish in a net.

Nevertheless, accidents were unavoidable and in the meantime, while the emblems of the law were being repaired, who could tell what might happen?

Stanley Heath might escape and take the jewels with him—escape to some other part of the world and pass on to a larger and more competent party of criminal investigators the unenviable task of arresting him.

Elisha was quite willing to forego the honor.

No longer did he desire to see his picture emblazoned on the front pages of the papers or behold his name in print. If he could shrink back into being merely a humble, insignificant citizen of Cape Cod, it was all he asked.

As he turned to reËnter the house, Eleazer hailed him.

"I've had the devil of a time with this revolver," announced he, puffing into the yard and jauntily flourishing the weapon.

"Take care, Eleazer! Don't you go pointin' that thing at me!" Elisha yelled.

"I ain't pointin' it at you. Even if I was, there'd be no chance of it hurtin' you. 'Tain't loaded."

"That's the kind that always goes off," the sheriff insisted. "For Heaven's sake, wheel it the other way, can't you? Or else aim it at the ground."

"Wal, since you're so 'fraid of it, I will. But for all that, there ain't an atom of danger." Then regarding his comrade's greenish countenance, he remarked abruptly, "Say, what's the matter with you, 'Lish? You ain't got on your other suit, nor your badge, nor nothin'. What in thunder have you been doin' all this time? I've been gone 'most an hour."

Elisha told his story.

"Wal, if that ain't the ole Harry!" fumed Eleazer. "That's goin' to ball us all up. There's no use doin' this thing if it ain't done in bang-up style. We don't want a lot of city cops jeerin' at us. We got to get that badge soddered an' them handcuffs unlocked 'fore another move can be made. I s'pose mebbe Nate Harlow over to Belleport could help us out."

"An' go blabbin' all over town the predicament the Wilton sheriff was in? No—sir—ee! Not if I know it. I wouldn't turn to a Belleport man for aid was the criminal to rush from hidin' an' go free. The only thing to do is to motor to Sawyer Falls an' hunt up Pete McGrath, the blacksmith. He's a wizard with tools. I never knew no job to stump him yet. He'll know what to do. The notion of goin' over there ain't such a bad one, neither, 'cause Artie Nickerson, the station-master's, got a relation on the Chicago police force an' had oughter be able to give us a few pointers 'bout how folks is arrested."

Accordingly the two men set forth on their errand.

As the shabby Ford rattled over the sandy thoroughfare, Elisha's strained countenance began gradually to relax.

"Nice day for a ride," remarked he glancing toward the sea. "Fine weather's certainly on the way. Air's mild as summer. 'Fore long we'll be havin' days worth noticin'."

"So we will. April's 'bout over an' May'll be on us 'fore we know it. Then June'll come—the month of brides an' roses."

The allusion was an unfortunate one.

Elisha stiffened in his seat.

Amid the whirlwind happenings of the day, he had forgotten that the man at his elbow was his rival.

"You plannin' to wed in June, Eleazer?" asked he disagreeably.

"That's my present intention."

"It's mine, too," said Elisha.

"Humph! Expectin' to live at the Homestead?"

Elisha nodded.

"So'm I," grinned Eleazer.

"Hope you'll invite me over, now and then," Elisha drawled sarcastically.

"Hope you'll do the same," came from Eleazer.

For an interval they rode on in uncomfortable silence.

"Them boats is pretty heavy loaded," Eleazer presently volunteered, gazing off towards the horizon where a string of dull red coal barges trailed along in the wake of a blackened tug.

"Makin' for New York, I reckon," Elisha responded, thawing a little.

"Wouldn't be s'prised if that Heath chap came from New York," ruminated Eleazer.

"Confound Heath! I wish I'd never laid eyes on him!" exploded Elisha.

"Oh, I dunno as I'd go so fur as to say that," came mildly from his companion. "Ain't Heath's comin' goin' to put Wilton on the map? Bad's he is, we've got him to thank for that. With him safely handed over to the authorities, our fortune's made. What you plannin' to do with your half of the reward?"

Here was a delightful topic for conversation!

Elisha's eyes brightened.

"I ain't decided yet," smiled he.

"Wonder how much 'twill be? Oughter come to quite a sum, considerin' the risk one takes to get it."

Elisha's newly captured good-humor vanished. Lapsing into moody silence, he did not speak again until the white spire of the Sawyer Falls church appeared and, rounding the bend of the road, the car rolled into the town.

Compared to the villages of Wilton or Belleport, this railroad terminus was quite a metropolis. It boasted two dry-goods stores, an A & P, a drug store, a coal office, a hardware shop, and a grain shed. Around its shabby station clustered a group of motor cars, a truck or two, and the usual knot of loitering men and boys.

In spite of his depression, Elisha's spirits took another upward turn.

It was interesting to see something different, something more bustling and novel than his home town.

"S'pose we drop in an' get a moxie," he suggested.

"'Twould go kinder good. I want to buy a roll of lozengers, too, an' some cough drops now I'm here."

"Come ahead."

"Don't you s'pose we'd oughter go to the smithy first an' leave the badge? It may take some little time to get it mended," Eleazer said.

The badge!

Would the man never cease dangling before his vision the wretched memories Elisha was struggling so valiantly to forget?

With an ungracious, wordless grunt, he grudgingly turned the nose of the car toward the railroad.

The small shed where the forge stood was close by the tracks and as he pulled up before it, he espied through its doorway not only Peter McGrath, the blacksmith, but also the rotund figure of Artie Nickerson, the Sawyer Falls station agent.

"Art's inside! Ain't that luck?" he remarked, clambering out of the car. "The station must be closed an' he's come across the road to neighbor with Pete."

They went in and after the usual greetings, Elisha stated his errand.

McGrath took the handcuffs and badge to the light and examined them.

"Humph! Looks as if you'd been in some sort of a scrimmage," he commented.

"I ain't. Things get weared out in time. The pin on that badge warn't never right. 'Twouldn't clasp. As for the handcuffs, I reckon they're O.K. 'cept for the key bein' gone. Think you can make me one?"

"Sure. That ain't no trick at all. I can hammer you out a skeleton key which, though 'twon't take no prize as to beauty, will do what you want it to. I can sodder some sort of a pin an' catch on the badge, too. S'pose you ain't in no 'special hurry for 'em. There don't 'pear to be a cryin' need round here for such articles," he concluded with a chuckle.

"Nevertheless, I would like 'em," Elisha demurred. "You see I'm plannin' to take 'em back with me. I don't often get over here an' you never can tell these days when such things may be wanted."

"Just as you say. I'll start on 'em straight away. I ain't busy on nothin' that can't be put aside."

Elisha strolled over to a box and sat down to wait.

"How are you, Art?" he inquired.

"Tol'able. Havin' some rheumatism, though. Reckon we've all got to expect aches an' pains at our age."

"That's right. Speakin' of handcuffs an' badges, didn't you have a nephew or a cousin 'sociated with a police force somewheres?"

"Bennie, you mean? Oh, yes. He's a policeman out in Chicago."

"How's he gettin' on?"

"Fine! Fine! Just now he's laid up in the hospital, but he 'spects to be out again 'fore long. Got shot through the arm a couple of weeks ago."

"You don't say? Huntin'?" Elisha queried pleasantly.

"Huntin'? Mercy, no! He got winged by a stray bullet while chasin' up a guy that had broke into a store. The shrimp hit him. Luckily he didn't kill him. Ben thought he got off pretty easy."

Elisha's smile faded.

"These fellers that's at large now don't give a hang who they murder," went on the station agent affably. "They're a desperate crew. They'd as soon kill you as not. Bennie landed his man, though, 'spite of bein' hurt. 'Twill, most likely, mean a promotion for him. He'd oughter be promoted, too, for he's done great work on the force. Been shot three or four times while on duty. 'Tain't a callin' I myself would choose, but he seems to get a big kick out of it."

Elisha, pale to the lips, suddenly decided he had heard enough of Bennie and shifted the subject.

"S'pose you're still goin' round in the same ole treadmill over at the station, Art," he observed.

"Yep. Same ole rut. Two trains a day as usual. I've had, though, a bit more telegraphin' to do of late than formerly. It's all come from your part of the world, too. Know a feller over to Wilton named Heath? He's sent off several wires."

Both Elisha, perched on the box, and Eleazer astride a keg straightened up.

"Heath? Yes, indeed. He's stoppin' in town for a while."

"So I gathered. Lives in New York at one of them big hotels."

"Who told you that?" Eleazer demanded.

"He sent a wire to his wife. Leastways, I figger 'twas his wife. He signed himself Lovingly, Stanley, an' addressed it to Mrs. Stanley Heath."

"You don't say! That's news to me," Elisha cried. He darted a glance at Eleazer.

Artie, gratified at seeing he had created a sensation, beamed broadly.

"'Course I ain't permitted to divulge messages that go through my hands. They're confidential. But for that I could tell you somethin' that would make your eyes pop outer their sockets."

"Somethin' about Heath?"

"Somethin' he said in a telegram."

"You might give us a hint," Eleazer suggested.

"I couldn't. Was I to, I might lose my job."

"Oh, I ain't askin' you to repeat no private wire."

"I couldn't even if you did."

Emphatically Artie shook his head.

Then Elisha had an inspiration.

"S'pose I was to ask you officially?" he suggested. "S'pose it's important for me to know what was in that message? S'pose I demanded you tell me in the name of the law?"

"Shucks, 'Lish. You don't get round me that way," the station agent laughed.

"I ain't attemptin' to get round you. I'm askin' you seriously as sheriff of the town of Wilton."

"Are you in earnest? What do you want to know for?" Artie asked.

"Never you mind. That's my business. I've a right to the information."

"Oh, that's different. Still, I reckon it's as well I shouldn't repeat what Heath said word for word. 'Twouldn't interest you, anyhow. The wire was just sent to a friend. The part that astonished me was its beginnin'. It ran somethin' like this:

"'Safe on Cape with my lady. Shall return with her later.'"

Simultaneously Elisha shot up from the box on which he was sitting and Eleazer sprang from the keg of nails.

"What interested me," droned on Artie, "was who this lady could be. Heath, apparently, is a married man. What business has he taggin' after some Wilton woman an' totin' her back to New York with him when he goes?"

"He ain't got no business doin' it," Eleazer shouted. "He's a blackguard—that's what he is! But don't you worry, Artie. He ain't goin' to put no such scurvy trick over on any Wilton woman. Me an' 'Lish'll see to that. We're onto him an' his doin's, we are. How much more tinkerin' have you got to do on them trinkets, Pete? The sheriff an' me is in a hurry to get home."

"You'll have to give me a good half hour more."

"The deuce we will!"

"Can't do it in less."

"That'll mean we won't fetch up at Wilton 'til after dark," Eleazer fretted.

"Sorry. I'm workin' at top speed. I can't go no faster. You've set me quite a chore."

"There's no use goin' up in the air an' rilin' Pete all up, Eleazer," Elisha intervened. "We'll just have to be patient an' put off what we was plannin' to do until tomorrow. I reckon mornin'll be a better time, anyway. Certainly 'twill do just as well."

"Mebbe," Eleazer grumbled. "Still, I'm disappointed. Wal, that bein' the case, s'pose you an' me step over to the drug store while we're hangin' round an' do them errands we mentioned."

Elisha agreed.

A faint flush had crept back into his cheeks and his eyes had regained their light of hope.

Chance was on his side.

He had wrested from Fate another twelve hours of life, and life was sweet.