n. Mr. Steele is waitin' on the platform to
meet me, silk lid and all.

"What about Pedders?" says I.

"I want you to see him first," says J. Bayard.

"On exhibition, is he?" says I.

"In a town of this size," says he, "everyone is on exhibition
continuously. It's the penalty one pays for being rural, I suppose.
I've been here only two days; but I'll venture to say that most of the
inhabitants know me by name and have made their guess as to what my
business here may be. It's the most pitiless kind of publicity I ever
experienced. But come on up to the postoffice, and I'll show you
Pedders."

"Fixture there, is he?" says I.

"Twice a day he comes for the mail," says J. Bayard. "Your train brought
it up. He'll be on hand."

So we strolls up Main street from the station, while Steele points out
the brass works, the carpet mill, the opera house, and Judge Hanks'
slate-roofed mansion. It sure is a jay burg, but a lively one. Oh, yes!
Why, the Ladies' Aid Society was holdin' a cake sale in a vacant store
next to the Bijou movie show, and everybody was decoratin' for a
firemen's parade to be pulled off next Saturday. We struck the
postoffice just as they brought the mail sacks up in a pushcart and
dragged 'em in through the front door.

"There he is," says Steele, nudgin' me, "over in the corner by the
writing shelf!"

What he points out is a long-haired, gray-whiskered old guy, with a
faded overcoat slung over his shoulders like a cape, and an old slouch
hat pulled down over his eyes. He's standin' there as still and quiet as
if his feet was stuck to the floor.

"Kind of a seedy old party, eh?" says I.

"Why not?" says J. Bayard. "He's an ex-jailbird."

"You don't say!" says I. "What brand?"

"Absconder," says he. "Got away with a hundred and fifty thousand from
the local bank."

"Well, well!" says I. "Didn't spend it dollin' himself up, did he?"

"Oh, all that happened twenty years ago," says Steele. "The odd part of
it is, though---- But come over to the hotel, where I can tell you the
whole story."

And, say, he had a tale, all right. Seems Pedders had been one of the
leadin' citizens,--cashier of the bank, pillar of the church, member of
the town council, and all that,--with a wife who was a social fav'rite,
and a girl that promised to be a beauty when she grew up. The Pedders
never tried to cut any gash, though. They lived simple and respectable
and happy. About the only wild plunge the neighbors ev