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Dark had been standing, casually at ease, before the Chief's desk, with the air of a man who does not tire from standing. Now he did something Fancher would not have dared: without the Chief's invitation, Dark sat down in a comfortable chair, leaned back and stretched out his legs in relaxation. "It's a little hard for me to realize there's a twenty-five-year gap in my memory," he said.
"You recognized this man certainly as Dark Kensington?" asked the Chief. "Well ..." Fancher began, and started coughing again. The Chief fixed him with an unwinking green stare. When the coughing spell ended, Fancher sat silent, his eyes stinging with tears, fumbling at what he wanted to say.
Young girls expressed to me their longing for a life which was better worth while, and lads, eager for adventure and excitement, confided to me their secret intention to leave the farm at the earliest moment. "I don't intend to wear out my life drudging on this old place," said Wesley Fancher with a bitter oath. In those few days, I perceived life without its glamor.
We have observers posted in the two houses at the ends of our emergency exits, and they've been reporting to Fancher, in the next room, by telephone. There's a force of about a hundred Mars City policemen and plain-clothes agents in the streets all around the building. They saw a squad go into the front, but evidently they didn't have enough warning to let Childress know in time."
The elder Miss Fancher, her aunt, who takes care of her, is a lady of the highest intelligence. She was at one time quite wealthy, and she has at present a comfortable income. I have every reason to believe that her statements are in every detail reliable. During a dozen visits to the sick chamber I have never detected evidence of the patient having eaten a morsel."
"Very good, sir," I replied amiably. "I will appear better, no doubt, as a listener; but if my father was alive " "Sir," beseeched my friend, "the great Fancher, the immortal critic, is about to speak." "Let him," said I, still amiable. A portly gentleman of middle age now addressed Bobbs amid a general and respectful silence.
This was Private Amos Fancher, the first man killed in the battle. The next day, April 21, we left camp at 12 m., having been issued rations of some of the hard tack and coffee they had captured, and guarded by the 35th North Carolina, Colonel Jones, were marched about eighteen miles.
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