The trains came and went, and the hush settled down once more at the
station. From where he lay, hidden under a ledge, with a thick growth
of laurel and sumac between him and the world, Billy could not see the
station platform, and had no means of telling whether Pat was about or
not.
He had lain still a long time and was beginning to think that his trip
had been in vain, when he heard a soft crackling of the twigs above
him, a heavy tread crashing through the bushes, a puffing snorting
breath from the porpoise-like Pat, and he held his own breath and lay
very still. Suppose Pat should take a new trail and discover his hiding
place? His heart pounded with great dull thuds. But Pat slid heavily
down to the little clearing below him, fumbled a moment with his key,
and then in a gruff guarded voice called: "Hullo! Hullo! Sam? That you? Yes, aw'right! Yes, aw'right! How's
things? What? Hell's to pay? Whaddaya mean hell? Ain't you gonta put it
over? After all my trouble you ain't a gonta let that million slip
through? What? Oh! Who? The Valet? He's beat it, has he? Whaddaya mean?
He took 'em? He took the pearls an' diamonds? Well, Em'ruls then!
What's tha diffrunce? We ain't gottum have we? Oh, bonds too! Well,
whattya gonta do about it? Move him? What, the rich guy? Move him
where? Why? We ain'ta gonta run no more risks. Link an' Shorty are
sore 'za pup when they come. I don't think they'll stan' for it. Well,
where'll ya move him? Who? Shorty? Oh, Link? Both? Well, I ain't seen
'em. I tol' 'em to keep good an' far away from me. I don't build on
loosin' this job just now, See? What? It's in the papers a'ready?
You don't say! Well, who you figger done that? That Valet? Well,
where's the harm? Can't you work it all the better? We got the guy,
ain't we? He ain't gottim that's certain. We c'n deliver the goods,
so we get the reward. How much reward they offerin? You don't say!
Well, I should say, get in yer work soon 'fore we get caught. Aw'right!
I'm with ya. Well, s'long! I'll be down here at nine sharp. Take a
trip to China with ya next week ef ya pull it off. Aw'right! Goobby!"
and Pat hung up and puffed his way up the hill again, leaving Billy
drenched with perspiration and filled with vague plans, and deep
anxiety. He had got a clue but what good was it? How could he
work it to the salvation of Mark? He could easily put the sissy over
at the parsonage wise, do him a good turn, save his dad some money,
but what good would that do Mark? Mark needed to establish an alibi,
he could see that with half an eye, but how would anything Billy knew
help that along unless--unless he told on himself? For a moment a long
trail of circumstances that would surely follow such a sacrificial
ordinance appeared before him and burned into his soul, most prominent
among them being Aunt Saxon, hard worked and damp-pink-eyed, crying her
heart out for the boy she had tried faithfully to bring up. And Miss
Lynn. How sad her eyes would grow if Billy had to be tried and
sentenced to prison. Not that Billy was afraid to go to prison, in fact
the thought of it as an experience was rather exhilirating than not,
but he was afraid to have those two know he had gone, afraid of their
eyes, their sad eyes! Yes, and he was afraid of the thought of his own
ingratitude, for down deep in his heart he could see a long line of
things Aunt Saxon had done for him that she hadn't been obliged to do.
Going without a new winter coat to get him an overcoat. His old one was
warm, but his arms were out of it too far and he wouldn't wear it.
Sitting up nights the time he drank swamp water and had the fever! That
was fierce! How he did rag her! And how patiently she bore it! The
scare she had when the dog bit him! As if a little dog bite was
anything! Doggone it, why were women such fools!