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When the officers and crew of the "Essex," after that vessel's gallant battle with the "Phoebe" and "Cherub," were sent to the United States under parole, two officers remained at Valparaiso, to give testimony before the prize-court. These gentlemen were Lieut. McKnight, and Mr. Lyman a master's mate.
Drive on, Billy, but do be careful." They came to the little village of Westways. At intervals Billy communicated bits of village gossip. "Susan McKnight, she's going to marry Finney " "Bother Susan," cried Leila. "Be careful." John alarmed held on to his seat as the sleigh rocked about, while Billy whipped up the mare. "This is Westways, our village. It is just a row of houses.
"Such an interesting case," he said nervously, "I took the liberty " "Look here," said McKnight suddenly, "did you make any inquiries at the station?" "A few," he confessed. "I went to the theater last night I felt the need of a little relaxation and the sight of a picture there, a cinematograph affair, started a new line of thought. Probably the same clue brought you gentlemen.
The schoolmaster's white-lashed eyelids blinked rapidly for a second or so, and he screwed his face into a hard wrinkled grin of gratification. 'Yes, Ginger, my lad, he said genially, 'Jo, at your service very much at your service; and yours, McKnight. We will go inside now, boys. The sun is painfully hot, and you are fatigued.
Downy returned to the Drovers' Arms late in the evening, having discovered that his supposed clue led only to a half-demented sundowner living in a hollow log near Cow Flat, and having nothing whatever in common with the missing man. The search of the troopers had been fruitless, too, and at this crisis the opinion of McKnight as a pioneer of Waddy was solicited.
McKnight seized a candle, crawled to the extremity of Dick's diminishing drive, and examined the place curiously. 'It's right, he cried, 'right as the bank. She's a dyke formation, I should say, an' rich. By the holy, we're made men made men, Hardy! Detective Downy was too deeply interested in his own quest to pay much attention to the miners. 'Now, my lad, he said, 'where are we?
Bronson still sat at the table, his elbows propped on it, his cigarette still lighted, burning a hole in the cloth. Partly under the table lay Mrs. Conway face down. The dog stood over her and wagged his tail. McKnight pointed silently to a large copper ashtray, filled with ashes and charred bits of paper. "The notes, probably," he said ruefully. "He got them after all, and burned them before her.
"He's more than that," I returned warmly. "He is the most honorable fellow I know. If he wasn't so much that way, he would have a career before him. He wanted to put on the doors of our offices, Blakeley and McKnight, P. B. H., which is Poor But Honest." From my comparative poverty to the wealth of the girl beside me was a single mental leap.
The door opened without ceremony, and Johnson ushered in a tall, blond man, a stranger to all of us: I glanced at Alison; she was pale, but composed and scornful. She met the new-comer's eyes full, and, caught unawares, he took a hasty backward step. "Sit down, Mr. Sullivan," McKnight beamed cordially. "Have a cigar? I beg your pardon, Alison, do you mind this smoke?"
Down-stairs McKnight was still at the telephone, and amusing himself with Mrs. Klopton in the interval of waiting. "Why did he come home in a gray suit, when he went away in a blue?" he repeated. "Well, wrecks are queer things, Mrs. Klopton. The suit may have turned gray with fright. Or perhaps wrecks do as queer stunts as lightning.
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