"So," she said, in conclusion, "although I haven't the least bit of belief in Marietta Hoag or any of her seances, I am sorry for Cap'n Jethro and I am very fond of Lulie. She is worried, I know, and she has asked me to be there tonight. You and Mr. Bangs will excuse me, everything considered, won't you?"

But Galusha had something to say. "Miss Martha," he said, "I am afraid I must go, too. I promised Mr.--ah--um--I mean I promised Lulie I would be there. And this is going to be a very important seance."

Martha turned to him.

"It is?" she asked. "Important--how? What do you mean?"

Her lodger looked as if he had said more than he intended. Also as if he did not know what to say next. But Cabot saved him the trouble.

"I wonder if I might attend this--er--function?" he suggested. "It is in the nature of a public affair, isn't it? And," with a twinkle of the eye, "it sounds as if it might be interesting."

Galusha and Miss Phipps regarded him gravely. Both seemed a little troubled. It was Martha who answered.

"There isn't any real reason why you shouldn't go, if you want to, Mr. Cabot," she said. "There is only one thing--only one reason why I didn't say yes right away. I guess Mr. Bangs knows that reason and feels the same as I do about it. Don't you, Mr. Bangs?"

Galusha nodded.

"You see," went on Miss Phipps, "Cap'n Hallett is kind of--well, queer in some ways, but he has been, in his day, a good deal of a man. And his daughter is a lovely girl and I think the world of her. I wouldn't want to hurt their feelings. If they should see you laugh--well, you understand--"

Cousin Gussie nodded.

"Don't say any more, Miss Phipps," he replied. "It is quite all right. I'll stay in your home here and be perfectly happy."

"But you didn't wait for me to finish. I was goin' to say that if you should laugh you must manage not to let any one hear you; especially Cap'n Jeth. Lulie has lots of common sense; she wouldn't mind except for the effect on her father, and she realizes how funny it is. But her father doesn't and--and he is pretty close to the breakin' point sometimes. So save up your laughs until we get back, please."

"You seem to take it for granted that I shall feel like laughing. Perhaps I sha'n't. I only suggested my attending this affair because I thought it would be a novelty to me."

"Yes, yes, of course. Well, it will be a novelty, I guess likely, and a pretty novel novelty, too. But there's one thing more, Mr. Cabot, that I want you to promise me. Don't you dare take that crowd at that seance as a fair sample of Wellmouth folks, because they're not."

"Why, Miss Phipps--"

"Because they're not. Every town and every neighborhood, city or country, has its freaks and every freak within five miles will be over in that lighthouse parlor to-night. Just take 'em for freaks, that's all, but DON'T take 'em for samples of our people down here." She paused, and then added, with an apologetic laugh, "I guess you think I am pretty peppery on the subject. Well, I get that way at times, particularly just after the summer is over and the city crowd has been here lookin' for 'characters.' If you could see some of the specimens who come over from the hotel, see the way they dress and act and speak! 'Oh,' one creature said to me; 'oh, Miss Phipps,' she gushed, 'I am just dyin' to meet some of your dear, funny, odd, quaint characters. Where can I find them?' 'Well,' said I, 'I think I should try the Inn, if I were you. There are funnier characters there than anywhere else I know.' Of course, I knew she was at the Inn herself, but that didn't make it any the less true. . . . There! I've preached my sermon. Now, Mr. Cabot, we'll go into the sittin' room and let Primmie clear off the table. Zach Bloomer--he's the assistant light keeper--is comin' to tell us when it's time to go to the seance."

In the sitting room they talked of various things. Galusha, listening to his cousin's stories and jokes, had almost forgotten his powder barrel. And then, all at once, a spark fell, flashed, and the danger became imminent.

Said the banker, addressing Martha and referring to her lodger: "What does this cousin of mine find to do down here, Miss Phipps? How does he manage to spend so much money?"

"Money?" repeated Martha. "He--spend money? Why, I didn't know that he did, Mr. Cabot. He is very prompt in paying his board. Perhaps I charge him too much. Is that what you mean?"

"I guess not. He hasn't paid you thirteen thousand dollars for board, has he?"

"Thirteen thousand dollars! Well, I guess not--scarcely. What are you talkin' about, Mr. Cabot? What is the joke?"

"I don't know. That's one of the things which, now that I am down here, I should like to find out. Somehow or other, since he has been on the Cape, he has managed to get rid of over thirteen thousand dollars. He SAYS he has given it to some of his mummy- hunting friends, but I am rather suspicious. He hasn't been organizing a clam trust, has he, Miss Phipps?"

Plainly, Martha did not know what to make of this speech. It was a joke, of course, but just where the point of the joke was located she was not sure. To her, thirteen thousand dollars was an enormous sum. The idea that her lodger, gentle, retiring little Galusha Bangs, possessed a half of that fortune was a joke in itself. But . . . And then she saw Galusha's face and the expression upon it.

"Why--why, Mr. Bangs!" she exclaimed.

Cabot turned and he, too, saw the expression. He burst out laughing.

"See!" he cried. "Doesn't he look guilty? It IS a clam trust, Miss Phipps. By Jove, Loosh, you are discovered! Galusha Bangs, the Clam King! Ha, ha, ha! Look at him, Miss Phipps! Look at him! Did you ever see a plainer case of conscious guilt? Ha, ha!"

He was enjoying himself hugely. And really Galusha was a humorous spectacle. He was very red in the face, he was trembling, and he appeared to be struggling for words and finding none.

"I--I insist," he stammered. "I--I mean I protest. It is ridiculous--ah--ah--absurd! I--I--"

His cousin broke in upon him. "Ha, ha!" he cried. "The secret is out. And you gave me to understand the mummy-hunters had it. Oh, Galusha!"

Galusha made another attempt.

"I--I told you--" he faltered. "I--I told you--"

"You told me it had gone to Egypt. But I was suspicious, old man. Why, Miss Phipps, isn't it glorious? Look at him!"

Martha was looking. Her face wore a puzzled expression.

"Isn't it glorious?" repeated Cousin Gussie.

She shrugged. "I suppose it is," she said. "Maybe it would be more so if I knew what it was all about. And Mr. Bangs doesn't look as if he found much glory in it."

"Of course he doesn't. Serves him right, the rascal. You see, Miss Phipps, I am supposed to take care of his money for him, and, while I was away in the mountains, my secretary sent him a check for over fourteen thousand dollars, sent it to him by mistake. _I_ never should have done it, of course. I know him of old, where money is concerned. Well, almost immediately after receiving the check, up he comes to our Boston office and--"

"Cousin Gussie! I--I protest! I--"

"Up he comes, Miss Phipps, and draws five thousand of the fourteen thousand in cash, in money, and takes it away with him. Then--"

"Cousin Gussie! Mr. Cabot!"

The tone in which Galusha spoke was so different from his usual one, and the fact of his addressing his relative as "Mr. Cabot" so astonishing, that the latter was obliged to stop even in the full tide of his enjoyment of the joke. He turned, to find Galusha leaning forward, one hand upon the center table, and the other extending a forefinger in his direction. The finger shook a little, but its owner's countenance was set like a rock. And now it was not crimson, but white.

"Mr. Cabot," said Galusha, "I must insist that you say no more on this matter. My personal business is--ah--presumably my own. I--I must insist. Insist--ah--absolutely; yes."

His cousin looked at him and he returned the look. Cabot's hesitation was but momentary. His astonishment was vast, but he accepted the situation gracefully. He laughed no more.

"I beg your pardon, Galusha," he said. "I'm sorry. I had no thought of offending you, old man. I--well, perhaps I am inclined to joke too freely. But, really, I didn't suppose--I never knew you to be--"

He paused. Galusha's expression did not change; he said nothing.

"I am very sorry," went on the banker. "It was only thoughtlessness on my part. You'll forgive me, Loosh, I hope."

Galusha bowed, but he did not smile. A little of the color came back to his cheeks.