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Updated: June 6, 2025
"They may be all right, and he may be honestly mistaken in thinking that his Emily is the Clarks' Emily; or he may have faked some of his records. It won't take us long to find out. Mr. Clark let me take his copy of Hapgood's papers." It was not a long matter to prove that Hapgood's copy of the records was correct.
Hapgood was upon his feet, staring. Hapgood's complacency was a thing of the past. Conniston nodded, his grin still with him. "Every cent of it! And here we are the Lord knows how far from home " "Have you looked through all your pockets?" "Every one. And I found " "What?" "A hole," chuckled Conniston. "Just a hole, and nothing more."
He saw the glances which were directed toward him when he came into the bunk-house; he knew what the men were thinking. He knew what they would say. And while it had been pride until now, now it was nothing in the world but lack of moral courage which made him stick to the thing which he hated. This day again he had seen Roger Hapgood's horse in the stable.
In ten seconds the tattered Hawkshaw was scrambling over the garden fence and making lively if inaccurate tracks through last year's cabbage patch. The Mysterious Visitor The entire Crow family watched him in stupefaction until he disappeared down the lane that led to Hapgood's grove. It was then, and not until then, that Anderson Crow took a breath. "Good Lord, Eva, what do you mean?" he gasped.
"I knew nobody else would say what you did, for it was just a part of our talk the other day," she replied, as she unpinned the thick veil from Mrs. Hapgood's hair. "Good-night, Mrs. Adams," said Jean, as they stood grouped about her in the hall. "This has been a lovely Hallowe'en, and I shall always remember it, I know."
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