any more."

"That news is old, and I don't see why you should assume so mysterious
an air in speaking of it," said Tom. "Your daughter has had time enough
to tell you all about it since you came home."

"But I heard about it before I left Newbern."

"You did! Who told you?"

"Well, I heard all about it."

"What if you did? I don't see how Hanson's disappearance could interfere
with your blockade-running."

"Mebbe you don't, but I do. If you had been in my place, and somebody
had sent you a letter saying that if you didn't quit business and come
home at once, some of your buildings would be burned up, what would you
think then? Do you reckon it would bust up your blockade running or
not?"

"Do you pretend to tell me that you received such a letter?" cried
Allison, who could scarcely believe his ears.

"That is just what I pretend to tell you--no less," answered the
captain, tapping the breast of his coat as if to say that he could prove
his words if necessary.

"Why--why, who could have sent it to you? Who do you think wrote it?"

"You tell. I don't know the first thing about it; I wish I did. I am
here now, and if I could only put my finger on the chap who caused me
all this bother, I'd fix him."

"Would you bushwhack him?" inquired Allison, wondering if there was any
way in which he could prevail upon Beardsley to show him that letter.

"No; but I would put the authorities on to him tolerable sudden and have
him forced into the army. Because why, I am scart of that chap myself.
He's hanging around here now, waiting for a good chance to do some more
meanness."

"You don't say!" exclaimed Tom, growing frightened. "He ought to be got
rid of. But who is he? Is there any one about here that you know of who
has reason to be down on you? Any one besides the Grays, I mean?"

Beardsley dropped his reins, pulled the collar of his coat down from his
face with both hands, and looked hard at his companion.

"Why, of course the Grays are down on you heavy, and all your friends
and mine know it," continued Tom. "You know it, don't you?"

"There, now!" exclaimed the captain, rearranging his collar and picking
up his reins again. "I never once thought of blaming it on that there
Marcy."

"I don't blame it on him, and I don't want you to think so for a
moment," said Tom, who had not yet arrived at the point of being
confidential with Beardsley. "I never hinted that Marcy wrote the
letter; but just look at the way