and I ain't cal'latin' to waste much time on
you, neither. You know where I'm bound now? Well, I'm bound up to
the Orham National Bank to call on my dear friend Sam Hunniwell.
He, he, he! I've got a little bit of news for him. He's in
trouble, they tell me, and I want to help him out. . . . Blast
him!"

This time Jed made no reply; but he, too, leaned forward and his
gaze was fixed upon the hardware dealer's face. There was an
expression upon his own face which, when Phineas saw it, caused the
latter to chuckle once more.

"He, he!" he laughed. "What's the matter, Shavin's? You look kind
of scared about somethin'. 'Tain't possible you've known all along
what I've just found out? I wonder if you have. Have you?"

Still Jed was silent. Babbit grunted.

"It don't make any difference whether you have or not," he said.
"But if you ain't I wonder what makes you look so scared. There's
nothin' to be scared about, as I see. I'm just cal'latin' to do
our dear old chummie, Cap'n Sam, a kindness, that's all. He's lost
some money up there to the bank, I understand. Some says it's four
thousand dollars and some says it's forty. It don't make any
difference, that part don't. Whatever 'tis it's missin' and I'm
going to tell him where to find it. That's real good of me, ain't
it? Ain't it, Shavin's; eh?"

The little man's malignant spite and evident triumph were actually
frightening. And it was quite evident that Jed was frightened.
Yet he made an effort not to appear so.

"Yes," he agreed. "Yes, yes, seems 's if 'twas. Er--er-- Where
is it, Phin?"

Phineas burst out laughing. "'Where is it, Phin?'" he repeated,
mockingly. "By godfreys mighty, I believe you do know where 'tis,
Shavin's! You ain't gettin' any of it, are you? You ain't
dividin' up with the blasted jailbird?"

Jed was very pale. His voice shook as he essayed to speak.

"Wh-what jailbird?" he faltered. "What do you mean? What--what
are you talkin' about, Phin?"

"'What are you talkin' about, Phin?' God sakes, hear him, will
you! All right, I'll tell you what I'm talkin' about. I'm talkin'
about Sam Hunniwell's pet, his new bookkeeper up there to the bank.
I'm talkin' about that stuck-up, thievin' hypocrite of a Charlie
Phillips, that's who I'm talkin' about. I called him a jailbird,
didn't I? Well, he is. He's served his term in the Connecticut
State's prison for stealin'. And I know it."

Jed groaned aloud. Here it w