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Updated: June 4, 2025
He had so far treated the agent with the scantest civility during their progress through the house; and Tyson's northern blood had boiled more than once. But the inspection of the house had apparently put its owner in a good temper, and he seemed to be now more genially inclined. He lit a cigarette and offered Tyson one. Upstairs the child could be heard wailing.
This was all that could be got from him, even when he was at the point to die and the wife of Knowland earnestly begged that he would tell the truth, as he was now entering into another world, and the owning or not owning of those facts could no ways prejudice them. As to the barbarous murder committed upon Mr. Tyson's coachman, it did not seem to make the least impression upon their spirits.
"That ought to be a good thing for the old lady," said the man on the starch boxes. "She'll git a discount off her gwarner." "I never did see," said the pensive neighbor on the brogan case, "how such things do git twisted. It was only yesterday that I met a man at Tyson's Mill, who'd just come over from the Valley, and he said he'd seen this Mr Noles over thar.
There was a growing sentiment of anger among these stern men, toward the murderer who had thus cut down their friend, and a strong feeling that ordinary justice was too slight a punishment for such a crime. Toward noon there was an informal gathering of citizens in Dan Tyson's store.
But there could be no doubt that if any of Tyson's loves could be called his first, he would have talked freely enough about it. No subject was too sacred or too vile for his unbridled tongue. He continued to talk. "After all, at my worst, I never did as much harm to any woman as that Framley fiend did to me. I suppose I had my revenge; but that was Nature's justice, not mine.
Yet within its range of vision her love was terribly clearsighted. And now, one by one, Tyson's sins fell from him in the purifying fire of his wife's fancy. He staggered to his feet and looked round him with glazed eyes; he was drunk with his own emotions. She followed his gaze; it was caught by some object above her bed. "Hallo," said he, "what's my old sword doing there? My beauty!"
The child's shawl was lying on the floor; he picked it up and pitched it to the other end of the room. Then he came up to her and scanned her face closely. "What's the matter with you?" he said. "Nothing. Do I do I look funny?" She put her hand to her hair, a trick of Mrs. Nevill Tyson's when she was under criticism. She had been such an untidy little girl. "Oh, damned funny. Look here.
A delusion not uncommon with men of Tyson's stamp. "I believe," said Tyson, "it's a what d'ye call 'em category innate idea a priori form of the masculine intelligence. I've never seen a man yet who hadn't it somewhere about him. And I've seen most sorts. Terrific bounders, too, some of them." A year ago Stanistreet would have laughed at this, now he smiled.
If any other man had hinted to him, in the most graceful and allegorical manner, that he lied, it would have been better for that man if he had not spoken. But he forgave Tyson many things, and for many reasons, one of these, perhaps, being a certain shamefaced consciousness touching Tyson's wife. "By the way," said he, "are you going to keep this up very much longer?
He said this was to be the last trip of the courier, but that after his return to La Paz he would come out to meet me at Tyson's Wells and report whether the horse-thieves were in town. He also suggested that in establishing a transshipment storehouse at the steamboat-landing I place Hudson in charge. The pay would be of use to him while "making up."
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