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So now I am going to give half to your wife, right off, Doctor, and my other half I will divide with the girls who were with me when we located it again." Polly was magnificent in her earnest generosity. "Why, Miss Polly, my wife would never accept half of it. Ken wrote something of what you told him, and Mrs. Evans told me to be sure to tell you that you cannot give half away.
He might then find the address of "S. R. Evans," if that person happened to be a Chicagoan. But it was quite likely that the "Chi." might mean something other than that "Evans" lived in Chicago. Perhaps, in the morning he would satisfy his curiosity about "S. R. Evans," but for the present he lacked the inclination to press the matter that far.
"Now, then, Pillingshot, I'll begin this thing, just to start you off. What makes you think the quid has been stolen, Evans?" "Because I jolly well know it has." "What you jolly well know isn't evidence. We must thresh this thing out. To begin with, where did you last see it?" "When I put it in my pocket." "Good. Make a note of that, Pillingshot. Where's your notebook? Not got one?
Sprung from humble ranks, but from conscientious and religious parents, who appreciated the advantage of education, Miss Evans was allowed to make the best of her circumstances. We have few details of her early life on which we can accurately rely.
"Now I think it is your turn," said the scoundrel Evans, turning to Brother Bartolomé with a grin. "I regret that we cannot give you long, for we returned from Tavoga this morning to find Captain Morgan already on the road. It will save time if you tell us at once what these keys open." "Certainly I will tell you," said the friar, and stretched out a hand for the bunch.
His voice was low and very distinct, his accent and expressions very marked as a foreigner to the tongue, but his English was perfect. "Indeed I shall, Mr. Mansion," smiled the girl-bride, "but I'm afraid that I don't know how to cook it." "We have an excellent cook," said Mr. Evans. "She has been with George and me ever since I came here.
I think I told them that I should be quite well in a few minutes, if they would leave me there; and I think that Mrs Evans told her husband to come indoors, leaving me to myself. At any rate they went indoors, and then the cool air, blowing on me from the sea, refreshed me, so that I stood up. I could think of nothing except the words: "I am a murderer." Anything was better than that uncertainty.
We got our load along, soon passing Bowers, but the toil was simply awful. We were soaked with perspiration and thoroughly breathless with our efforts. Again and again the sledge got one runner on harder snow than the other, canted on its side, and refused to move. At the top of the rise I found Evans reduced to relay work, and Bowers followed his example soon after.
Dick's colour crept back, and the veins, that had shown blue on the sudden yellow of his cheek, began to lose their vividness. "That's more like it!" said the Doctor, tranquilly. "Do you sit quite here for a minute, now, and I'll go get you a drop of something from our friend, Mr. Evans, that'll do you no harm!"
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