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Updated: June 22, 2025
When I stood there outside the curtain that night I was looking straight at him, and at nobody else. I don't remember another face. Tasper Britt is not actor enough to make up the expression that I saw. It was simple, absolute, flabbergasted fright!" They started down the slope and walked in silence. "He's considerable of a coward," Vaniman admitted, after his pondering.
A young chap who was trying hard to be professionally blasé bolted into the reception-room in search of his chief. "Excuse me! But four truck-loads of men from the Agawam quarries just went through toward the State House. They had crowbars and sledge-hammers!" "So? Warson is making a demonstration, is he? I'll be back there in a minute, Jack!" Tasper turned to Lana again.
But all the venom of suspicion was wholly engaged with Frank Vaniman, the son of an embezzler. Squire Hexter, armed with authority and information given him by the young man, had repeatedly waited on Tasper Britt and had asked what attitude the president proposed to take at the trial.
"Good morning, Usial," called Tasper. "I own up that you're a convincing writer. According to your request, you see I'm giving you your right name. The voters are giving you honors. Who knows what another issue of The Hornet may get for you?" Britt's tone was one of bluff sincerity. Egypt's Pharaoh did not seem to be a bit put out because no one replied to him in this astonishing levee.
Tasper Britt employed his freedom promptly and brutally; he leaped along the avenue the men left for him and began to lash Usial with the whip. The stolid townsfolk of Egypt stood in their tracks. "That's the best way let 'em fight it out," counseled Spokesman Jones. "Tasp Britt will get his, and it'll be in the family!"
Then, when his eyes came down from that complacent countenance, they beheld the face of Tasper Britt framed in his office window. The Britt in the bank was distinctly in an ugly mood. And there was a challenge in his demeanor, a sneer in the twist of his features. "Vona, I'm going in there," Vaniman declared. "There's got to be a showdown, but it's no job for you!"
Though two men were watching her going-away, and though she must have been conscious of the fact, she did not turn her head to glance behind her. At any rate, the thing was over, whatever had happened, the cashier reflected with relief. Nevertheless, curiosity was nagging at him; he felt an impulse to go in and inspect the condition of Tasper Britt by way of securing a hint.
He saw his employer disgracing himself; he beheld an unresisting victim cruelly maltreated. The young man jumped on Tasper Britt and tried to hold his arms. When Britt whirled and broke loose by the twist of his quick turn and struck the cashier with the whip, Vaniman wrested away the weapon, using all his vigorous strength, and threw it far.
Whether hope that he was there or fear that he might be there prompted Lana's suggestion was not clear from her manner. "You'll sooner find a rat down the back of my neck than find Stewart Morrison inside that State House after the brags he has been making around this city in the past few hours," declared Tasper, with the breezy freedom of long friendship with the caller.
"I wonder whether Tasper will dare to go ahead and build his palace after he hears the latest news," suggested the Squire. "You must be told, Jared, that after the live stock of the town has been thinned down to the essentials permitted by law, then the farms and general real estate can be levied on." Grant lifted his haggard face and stared at the Squire.
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