"Why, Elisha!" exclaimed Marcia. "How you startled me. Come in. You're all dressed up, aren't you? Have you been to a funeral?"

"No. I—we—"

The sheriff cleared his throat.

"Me an' Eleazer—" he began.

"Eleazer? Did he come with you?"

Elisha nodded.

"Where is he?"

"Outside."

"Isn't he coming in?"

"Yes—yes. He's comin' presently."

"Perhaps he doesn't dare," Marcia remarked with spirit. "I don't wonder he hesitates. He ran off with my dory yesterday."

"That warn't Eleazer. That was me."

"You? But I didn't know you were here."

"I was. I took the boat on official business," Elisha explained.

Marcia's laughter, crystalline as a mountain stream, musical as its melody, rippled through the room.

"Official business!" she repeated derisively. "Official business indeed! When, I'd like to know, did Wilton ever have any official business? Don't joke, Elisha. This taking my boat is no joking matter. It is a serious thing to leave me here with no way of getting ashore quickly. I didn't like it at all."

"I'm sorry," apologized the sheriff uncomfortably. "You see, an emergency arose—"

"No emergency is important enough for you to take my boat without asking. Please remember that."

"I will," squeaked the offender, coloring under the reprimand like a chastened schoolboy. "I won't do it again, I promise you."

"All right. You're forgiven this time. Now sit down and tell me the news."

His dignity, his pomposity put to rout Elisha, feeling very small indeed, backed into the nearest chair.

Instead of making the rafters of the Homestead quake at his presence; instead of humbling Heath, reducing Marcia to trembling admiration, here he sat cowed and apologetic.

It was not at all the sort of entrance he had mapped out. It would not do. He had got a wrong start.

Before Eleazer put in an appearance, he must right himself.

With a preliminary ahem, he hitched forward in the rocking chair.

"You won't mind if I go on with my baking, will you?" Marcia said, bustling toward the stove. "I'm makin' dried apple turnovers. They'll be done in a second and you shall have one."

"I thought I smelled pie crust," Elisha murmured vaguely.

"You thought right."

Kneeling, Marcia opened the door of the oven.

"Isn't that a sight for sore eyes?" inquired she as she drew out a pan of spicy brown pastries and placed them, hot and fragrant, on the table. "Now, I'll get you a plate, fork and some cheese."

"I don't need no fork," Elisha protested. "I can take it in my fingers."

"Oh, you better not do that. It's sticky and you might get a spot on your Sunday clothes."

His Sunday clothes!

Elisha came to himself.

He rose up.

"I oughtn't to be eatin', anyhow," he called after Marcia as she retreated into the pantry. "You see, I come here this mornin' to—"

"I guess a nice hot apple turnover won't go amiss no matter what you came for," interrupted the woman, returning with the plate, fork and cheese.

With deftness she whisked the triangle of flaky pastry onto the plate and extended it toward her guest.

Its warm, insidious perfume was too much for Elisha.

He sat down with the plate in his lap.

He had taken only an introductory mouthful, however, when the door parted a crack and Eleazer crept cautiously through the opening.

For a moment he stood transfixed, viewing the scene with amazement; then he burst out in a torrent of reproach.

"'Lish Winslow, what on earth are you doin'? Here I've been waitin' outside in the wind, ketchin' my death of cold an' worryin' lest you was dead—hearin' neither word nor sign of you—an' you settin' here by the stove rockin' an' eatin' pie! What do you think you come for, anyhow?"

"I know, Eleazer, I know," Elisha stammered, ducking his head before the accusing finger of his colleague. "It may, mebbe, seem queer to you. I just hadn't got round to the business in hand, that's all. I'm comin' to it."

"Comin' to it? You don't look as if you was."

"I am," protested the sheriff, cramming the turnover into his mouth and drawing his hand hurriedly across his lips. "I'm comin' to it in time. Be patient, Eleazer! Be patient, can't you?"

"I've been patient half an hour a'ready an' you ain't, apparently, even made a beginnin'."

"Yes I have, Eleazer. I've made a start. The pie's et. That's done an' over."

"But you had no right to stop an' eat. You had no business eatin' pie, anyhow. Ain't you got indigestion?"

"I—wal, yes. I do recall havin' a qualm or two of dyspepsia," Elisha owned in a conciliatory tone. "That's gone, though. I reckon the fresh air kinder scat it off. I'd clean forgot about it."

"Mebbe you'd clean forgot what you come here to do, too," derided Eleazer.

"No. Oh, no. I didn't forget that. I was just leadin' up to it in a sorter tactful way."

"There ain't no way of bein' tactful when you're arrestin' folks. You've got the thing to do an' you have to go straight to it."

A fork clattered from Marcia's shaking hand to the floor.

"Arresting folks?" she repeated, looking from one man to the other.

"Yes. Since 'Lish is so spineless at his job, I may's well tell you what we come for. He don't 'pear to have no notion of doin' so," Eleazer sneered. "Pretty kind of a sheriff he is! You'd think to see him he was at an afternoon tea."

"You better look out, Eleazer Crocker, how you insult an officer of the law," Elisha bawled angrily. "Say a word more an' I'll hail you into court."

"If you don't land me there faster'n you do Heath I shan't worry," jeered Eleazer.

"Heath? Mr. Heath?" Marcia repeated.

"Yes. We come over here this mornin' to place Mr. Stanley Heath under arrest," Eleazer announced.

The woman caught at the edge of the table.

"Place him under arrest? What for?"

So they knew the truth! In some way they had found it out and the net of the law was closing in.

Her mind worked rapidly. She must gain time—worm out of them how much they know.

"Of what are you accusing Mr. Heath?" she demanded, drawing herself to her full height and unconsciously moving until her back was against the door leading to the stairway.

"Of the Long Island robbery," Eleazer answered.

"You mean to say you think him a thief?"

"We know he's one—leastways Elisha does."

"Don't go foistin' it all on me," snarled Elisha.

"But you do know, don't you? You said you did."

"I—yes! I'm tol'able sure. I have evidence," Elisha replied. "At least I figger I have."

"Shucks, 'Lish!" Eleazer cried. "Where's your backbone? You figger you have! Don't you know it? Ain't you beheld the loot with your own eyes?"

Elisha nodded.

"Then why on earth don't you stand up in your boots an' say so?"

The door opened and Sylvia entered then stopped, arrested on the threshold by the sound of angry voices.

Inquiringly she looked from Marcia to the men, and back again.

No one, however, heeded her presence.

Marcia, with whitened lips but with face grave and determined, remained with her back to the stairway door, her arms stretched across its broad panels, her eyes never leaving Elisha Winslow's. There was something in her face Sylvia had never seen there—a light of battle; a fierceness as of a mother fighting for her child; a puzzling quality to which no name could be given.

Suddenly, as the girl studied her, recognition of this new characteristic flashed upon her understanding.

It was love!

Anger, perhaps terror, had forced Marcia into betraying a secret no other power could have dragged from her.

Sylvia marveled that the men whose gaze was riveted upon her did not also read her involuntary confession.

Apparently they failed to do so.

"Ain't I said a'ready I had proof? What more do you want me to do, Eleazer?" Elisha fumed.

"What proof have you?" Marcia interposed.

Elisha shifted from one foot to the other.

"I've seen the jewels," he whispered. "They're here—in this room. Don't think I'm blamin' you, Marcia. 'Course Heath bein' what he is, is nothin' against you," he hurried on breathlessly. "We're all aware you wouldn't shelter no criminal did you know he was a criminal; nor would you furnish a hidin' place for his stolen goods. What I'm sayin' is news to you an' a shock. I can see that. Naturally it's hard to find our friends ain't what we thought 'em. When faced with the evidence, though, you'll see the truth same's Eleazer an' me see it.

"Heath, the feller overhead, is the Long Island jewel robber.

"The jewels he stole are under that brick. I've seen 'em."

With finger pointing dramatically toward the hearth, Elisha strode forward.

Sylvia, however, sprang before him, standing 'twixt him and his goal.

"What a ridiculous story, Mr. Winslow!" she cried. "What a fantastic yarn! Do you imagine for one moment there could be anything hidden under those bricks and Marcia and I not know it? Why, one or the other of us has been in this room every instant since Mr. Heath arrived. When could he get the chance to hide anything? Didn't you and Doctor Stetson get here almost as soon as he did? Wasn't it you who undressed him? Had he brought jewels with him you would have found them inside his clothing. You took off every rag he wore. Did you discover any such thing?"

"N—o."

"Well, then, don't you see how absurd such an accusation is? How could the gems get here?"

"I don't know how they got here. All I know is they're here," Elisha repeated stubbornly.

Sylvia's brain was busy.

That Elisha by some means or other had stumbled upon the truth there could be no doubt.

How was she to prevent it if he insisted upon searching as it was obvious he intended to do?

Not only was Marcia ignorant of Heath's true character but also that the jewels lay concealed close at hand. She would receive an overwhelming shock if the proof of his guilt came upon her in this brutal fashion.

Did she not believe in him? Love him?

It was for Marcia Sylvia was fighting, not Heath—Marcia whom she adored and whom she was determined to save from Elisha's power at any cost.

If after the two meddling officials had gone she could be convinced that the hero on whom her heart was set was unworthy, that was matter for later discussion.

All that was of import now was to defend him; shield him from discovery; give him the chance for escape.

It was at the moment she reached this decision that Marcia's voice, calm and unwavering, broke upon the stillness:

"If you are so certain about the jewels, Elisha, why don't you produce them?" she was saying.

"No—no, Marcia!" Sylvia protested. "There is nothing here, Mr. Winslow, truly there is nothing. I swear it."

"Nevertheless, let him look, Sylvia."

"But Marcia—" begged the girl.

"Step aside, dear, and let him look. Let them both look."

"Please—please, Marcia—!"

Sylvia was upon her knees now on the hearth, and the men, hesitating to remove her by force, halted awkwardly.

Her face, drawn with terror, was upturned to Marcia and was pitiful in its pleading.

Marcia regarded her first with startled incredulity—then with coldness.

So Sylvia loved Heath, too!

She was fighting for him—fighting with all her feeble strength.

A pang wrenched the older woman's heart.

What if Heath had played a double game—made love to Sylvia as he had made love to her? Convinced her of the depths of his affection with an ardor so compelling that against all odds she, too, believed in it?

If so—if the man were a mountebank the sooner they both found it out—the sooner all the world knew it, the better.

If, on the other hand, he was innocent, he should have his chance.

The older woman went to the side of the pleading figure.

The surprise of her discovery crisped her voice so that it was short and commanding.

"Get up, Sylvia," she said. "The sheriff must search. He must do his duty. We have no right to prevent it."

Obedient to the authoritative tone, the girl arose.

"Now, gentlemen, you may search," Marcia said.

Neither Elisha Winslow nor his companion had cause now to complain of any lack of dignity in the law's fulfillment.

As if she were a magistrate seeing justice done, Marcia, magnificent in silence, towered above them while they stooped to perform their task. Her face was pale, her lips tightly set.

The brick was lifted out.

A smothered cry escaped Sylvia and was echoed by Elisha.

"Why—land alive—there's nothin' here!" gasped the sheriff.

"I told you there was nothing!" Sylvia taunted, beginning to laugh hysterically. "I told you so—but you would not believe me."

Tears were rolling down her cheeks and she wiped them away, strangling a convulsive sob.

"Wal, 'Lish, all I can say is you must either 'a' been wool gatherin' or dreamin' when you conceived this yarn," Eleazer jeered.

"I warn't," hissed Elisha, stung to the quick. "I warn't dreamin'. Them jewels was there. I saw 'em with my own eyes. I swear to heaven I did." Then as if a new idea flashed into his mind, he confronted Sylvia. "They was there, young lady, warn't they? You know they was. That's why you was so scairt for me to look. You've seen 'em, too."

"I?"

"Yes, you. Deny it if you dare."

"Of course I deny it."

"Humph! But Marcia won't. You can lie if you want to to save the skin of that good-for-nothin' critter upstairs—though what purpose is served by your doin' it I can't see. But Marcia won't. She'll speak the truth same's she always has an' always will. No lie will cross her lips. If she says them jewels warn't here I'll believe it. Come now, Marcia. Mebbe you've evidence that'll hist me out of the idiot class. Was there ever diamonds an' things under this brick or warn't there?"

"Yes."

"You saw 'em?"

As if the admission was dragged from her, Marcia formed, but did not utter, the word:

"Yes."

"They was under this brick, warn't they?"

"Yes."

"There! Then I ain't gone daffy! What I said was true," Elisha acclaimed, rising in triumph and snapping his finger at Eleazer.

"The jewels were Mr. Heath's. He hid them for safe keeping."

"He told you that?"

"Yes."

"A likely story! He stole 'em—that's what he did."

"I don't believe it."

"I do," leered the sheriff.

"Prove it then," challenged Marcia, with sudden spirit, a spot of crimson burning on either cheek.

"Prove it?" Elisha was taken aback. "Wal, I can't at the moment do that. I can't prove it. But even if I can't, I can make out a good enough case against him to arrest him on suspicion. That's what I mean to do—that's what I come for an' what I'll do 'fore I leave this house."

Marcia swept across the floor.

Once again she was poised, back against the door leading to the stairs.

"Mr. Heath is sick."

"I guess he ain't so sick but what I can go up an' cross-examine him."

"I ask you not go to. I forbid it."

"Law, Marcia!"

"I forbid it," repeated the woman. "Drop this matter for a day or two, Elisha. Mr. Heath shall not leave the house. I promise you that. I will give you my bond. Leave him here in peace until he is well again. When he is able to—to—go with you I will telephone. You can trust me. When have I ever been false to my word?"

"Never, Marcia! Never in all the years I've known you."

"Then go and leave the affair in my hands."

"I don't know—mebbe—I wonder if I'd oughter," ruminated Elisha. "'Tain't legal."

"No matter."

"I don't see why the mischief you're so crazy to stand 'twixt this Heath chap an' justice, Marcia. The feller's a scoundrel. That's what he is—an out an' out scoundrel. Not only is he a thief but he's a married man who's plottin' behind your back to betray you—boastin' openly in telegrams he is."

"What do you mean?"

"I wouldn't like to tell you. In fact I couldn't. 'Twould be repeatin' what was told me in confidence," hedged Elisha, frightened by the expression of the woman's face.

"You must tell me."

"Mebbe—mebbe—there warn't no truth in what I heard."

"I must judge of that."

"I ain't got no right to tell you. Things are often told me in confidence, 'cause of my bein' sheriff, that it ain't expected I'll pass on."

"I have a right to know about the telegram you mention. Will you tell me or shall I call up the Sawyer Falls operator?"

"Oh, for heaven's sake don't do that," Elisha pleaded. "Artie Nickerson would be ragin' mad did he find I'd told you. If you must know what the message was, I can repeat it near 'nough, I reckon. It ran somethin' like this:

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

"And that was all?" inquired Marcia calmly.

"All! Ain't that enough?" Elisha demanded. "There was a word or two more 'bout clothes bein' sent here, but nothin' of any note. The first of the message was the important part," concluded the sheriff.

As she vouchsafed no reply and the ticking of the clock beat out an embarrassing silence, he presently continued:

"I don't want you should think I told you this, Marcia, with any unfriendly motive. It's only that those of us who've seen you marry one worthless villain don't want you should marry another. Jason was a low down cuss. You know that well's I."

The woman raised her hand to check him.

"I'm aware 'tain't pleasant to hear me say so out loud, but it's God's truth. Every man an' woman in Wilton knows 'tis. Folks is fond of you, Marcia. We don't want you made miserable a second time."

"Marcia!" Sylvia burst out. "Marcia!"

"Hush, dear. We'll talk of this later. Elisha, I think I must ask you and Eleazer to go now. I will let you know when Mr. Heath is able to take up this affair with you."

"You ain't goin' to tell me where the jewels are?"

"I don't know where they are."

"Nor nothin' 'bout—'bout the telegram."

"Nothing except to thank you for your kind intentions and say you quoted it quite correctly. I sent it for Mr. Heath myself."

"But—but—"

"My Lady, as you have apparently forgotten, is the name of Mr. Heath's boat—the boat you yourself helped pull off the shoals."

"My land! So 'tis," faltered Elisha. "I'm almighty sorry, Marcia—I ask your pardon."

"Me, too! We come with the best of intentions—" rejoined Eleazer, fumbling for his cap. "Honest we did."

"It's all right. Just leave us now, please."

As the two men shuffled across the kitchen, a heavy object dropped to the floor, interrupting their jumbled apologies.

"Pick up them handcuffs, 'Lish, an' come along double-quick," Eleazer muttered beneath his breath. "You've made a big enough fool of yourself as 'tis. Don't put your foot in any deeper."

"And here's your hat," added Sylvia, handing the bewildered sheriff his property with an impish bow. "Take it and scram—both of you."

As the door banged behind the discomfited officials, clear as a bell on the quiet air came the twitting voice of Eleazer:

"Wal, Scram got said, didn't it, 'Lish, even if 'twarn't you said it? That gal is an up-to-date little piece. She knows what's what. I told you no shindy of this sort was complete unless somebody said: Scram!"