idence
enough to see the squire, and set others to work on it; and," he added
significantly, "you've done your share then, and can wipe your hands of
it, eh?"

"That's so," said Peters, eagerly. "I'll just run over to the squire."

"And on account of the women folks, you know, and the strangers here,
I'll say nothin' about it to-night," added Harkutt.

Peters nodded his head, and taking up the hat of the unfortunate Elijah
with a certain hesitation, as if he feared it had already lost its
dramatic intensity as a witness, disappeared into the storm and darkness
again. A lurking gust of wind lying in ambush somewhere seemed to swoop
down on him as if to prevent further indecision and whirl him away in
the direction of the justice's house; and Mr. Harkutt shut the door,
bolted it, and walked aimlessly back to the counter.

From a slow, deliberate and cautious man, he seemed to have changed
within an hour to an irresolute and capricious one. He took the paper
from his pocket, and, unlocking the money drawer of his counter, folded
into a small compass that which now seemed to be the last testament of
Elijah Curtis, and placed it in a recess. Then he went to the back door
and paused, then returned, reopened the money drawer, took out the
paper and again buttoned it in his hip pocket, standing by the stove and
staring abstractedly at the dull glow of the fire. He even went through
the mechanical process of raking down the ashes,--solely to gain time
and as an excuse for delaying some other necessary action.

He was thinking what he should do. Had the question of his right to
retain and make use of that paper been squarely offered to him an hour
ago, he would without doubt have decided that he ought not to keep it.
Even now, looking at it as an abstract principle, he did not deceive
himself in the least. But Nature has the reprehensible habit of
not presenting these questions to us squarely and fairly, and it is
remarkable that in most of our offending the abstract principle is never
the direct issue. Mr. Harkutt was conscious of having been unwillingly
led step by step into a difficult, not to say dishonest, situation,
and against his own seeking. He had never asked Elijah to sell him the
property; he had distinctly declined it; it had even been forced upon
him as security for the pittance he so freely gave him. This proved (to
himself) that he himself was honest; it was only the circumstances that
were queer. Of course i