heir silver case, took a red silk
handkerchief from his hat, wiped his face, and put the handkerchief
back. Then he said, shortly:

"That's what I _have_ come for."

Wood, still leaning on the fence, looked at him, and said nothing.

"That's just what I've come for," said Captain Nourse. "I've got to
arrest you; here's the warrant." And he handed it to him.

"What does this mean?" said Wood. "I can't make head nor tail of
this."

"Well," said the captain, "the long and short is: these high-toned
detectives that they've had down from town, seein' as our own force
wasn't good enough, allow that the safe was unlocked with a key, in
due form, and then the lock was broke afterward, to look as if it had
been forced open. They've had the foreman of the safe-men down, too,
and he says the same thing. Naturally, the argument is: there were
only two keys in existence; one was safe with the president of the
bank, and is about all he's got to show out of forty years' savings;
the only other one you had: consequently it heaves it on to you."

"I see," said Wood. "I will go with you. Do you want to come into the
house with me while I get my coat?"

"Well, I suppose I must keep you in sight--now, you know."

And they went into the house.

"Mary," said her husband, "the folks that lost by Clark when the bank
broke have been at him until he's felt obliged to pitch on somebody,
and he's pitched on me; and Captain Nourse has come to arrest me. I
shall get bail before long."

She said nothing, and did not shed a tear till he was gone.

But then----

II.

Wide wastes of salt marsh to the right, imprisoning the upland
with a vain promise of infinite liberty, and, between low, distant
sand-hills, a rim of sea. Stretches of pine woods behind, shutting in
from the great outer world, and soon to darken into evening gloom.
Ploughed fields and elm-dotted pastures to the left, and birch-lined
roads leading by white farm-houses to the village, all speaking
of cheer and freedom to the prosperous and the happy, but to the
unfortunate and the indebted, of meshes invisible but strong as steel.
But, before, no lonesome marshes, no desolate forest, no farm or
village street, but the free blue ocean, rolling and tumbling still
from the force of an expended gale.

In the open door-way of a little cottage, warmed by the soft slanting
rays of the September sun, a rough man, burnt and freckled, was
sitting, at his