"Ah--ah-- Yes, certainly," he stammered. "Certainly, quite so."

He sat down in his chair again, but he did not look in Miss Phipps' direction. He seemed to know that she was regarding him with a fixed and startled intentness.

"Five thousand dollars!" she said, in a low tone. Neither of the men appeared to hear her. Cabot, too, sat down. And it was he who, plainly seeking for a subject to relieve the tension, spoke next.

"I was telling my cousin," he said, addressing Martha, "that I came down here to attend to a little matter of business. The business wasn't my own exactly, but it was a commission from a friend and client of mine and he left it in my charge. He and I supposed we had an agent here in your town, Miss Phipps, who was attending to it for us, but of late he hasn't been very successful. I received a letter from Williams--from my friend; he is in the South--asking me to see if I couldn't hurry matters up a bit. So I motored down. But this agent of ours was not in. Probably you know him. His name is Pulcifer."

Martha and Galusha started simultaneously.

"Pulcifer?" queried Martha. "Raish Pulcifer, do you mean?"

"It doesn't seem to me that his Christian name is-- What did you say, Miss Phipps?"

"I said 'Raish'; that's what every one down here calls the man I mean. His real name, of course, is Horatio."

"Horatio? That sounds more like it. I didn't hire him--Williams did that--and I have never met him, although he and Thomas, my secretary, have had some correspondence. Wait a moment, I have his name here."

He took from his pocket a memorandum book and turned over the leaves.

"Yes," he said, "that's it. Horatio Pulcifer. Here is his card. 'Horatio Pulcifer, Dealer in Real Estate of All Kinds; Cranberry Bog Property Bought and Sold; Mortgages Arranged For; Fire, Life and Accident Insurance; Money Loaned; Claims Adjusted; Real or Household Goods Auctioned Off or Sold Private; etc., etc.' Humph! Comprehensive person, isn't he? Is this the fellow you know, Miss Phipps?"

Martha nodded. "Yes," she said, "I know him."

Cabot glanced at her. "I see," he observed. "Well, what sort of a character is he? Would you trust him?"

She hesitated. "Why--why," she replied, "I suppose I should, if-- if--"

"If he was not too far away, or around the corner, or anything like that? I understand."

Martha was a bit disturbed. "You mustn't put words in my mouth, Mr. Cabot," she said. "I didn't say Raish Pulcifer was dishonest."

"No, that is true. And I beg your pardon for asking embarrassing questions. I have seen some of the fellow's letters and usually a letter is a fairly good indication of character--or lack of it. I have had my surmises concerning the ubiquitous Horatio for some time."

Martha seemed to be thinking.

"I understood you to say he was your agent for somethin' down here, Mr. Cabot," she said. "Sellin' somethin', was he? That kind of an agent?"

"No. As a matter of fact, he was supposed to be buying something, but he hasn't made much progress. He started out well, but of late he seems to have found trouble. I am rather surprised because we-- that is, Williams--pay him a liberal commission. I judge he doesn't hate a dollar and that kind of man usually goes after it hammer and tongs. You see-- But there, I presume I should not go into particulars, not yet."

"No, no, Mr. Cabot. Of course not, of course not."

"No." Cabot had been turning over the leaves of the memorandum book while speaking. "And yet," he went on, "there are one or two names here concerning which you might be able to help us. Pulcifer writes that two of the largest stockholders. . . . Humph! . . . Eh? Why, by Jove, this is remarkable! You are Miss Martha Phipps, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Was your father, by any chance, James H. Phipps?"

"Yes."

"Well, I declare! This IS remarkable. . . . And--why, you have been speaking of a Captain--er--Jethro Somebody? Is he-- He isn't Jethro Hallett, is he?"

"Why, yes. I told you his name. He is the light keeper here at Gould's Bluffs and we are all goin' over to his house in a few minutes, for the seance, you know."

"Well, well, well! And here I have been sitting and talking with one of the very persons whom I came down here hoping to see."

"To see? You came down here hopin' to see ME? Mr. Cabot, is this another joke?"

"Not a bit of it. If it is, the joke is on me for not identifying you with the Martha Phipps that Pulcifer writes he can't do business with. Miss Phipps, you own something we want to buy."

"I? Somethin' you want to buy?"

"Yes. Williams wants to buy it and I am interested with him. Miss Phipps, you own two hundred and fifty shares of the stock of the Wellmouth Development Company, don't you?"

He must have been surprised at the effect of this question. Martha stared at him. Then, without speaking, she turned and looked past him at Galusha Bangs. She looked so long and so steadily that Cabot also turned and looked. What he saw caused him to utter an exclamation.

"For heaven's sakes, Loosh!" he exclaimed.

His cousin, as white as the proverbial sheet, which means much whiter than some sheets, Elmer Rogers', for example, was slowly rising from his chair. One hand was pressed against his forehead and he looked as if he were dazed, stunned, suffering from a stroke. As a matter of fact, he was suffering from all three. The spark had at last reached the powder and the barrel was in the very act of disintegrating.

"Galusha," demanded Cousin Gussie, "are you sick? What is it?"

Galusha did not answer. Before the alarmed banker could repeat his question there came a knock at the door.

"Miss Martha," called Primmie, in tremulous excitement. "Miss Martha, Zach he's come and he says the seance is just a-goin' to begin and Cap'n Jeth says to hurry right straight over. Zach says the old man is as tittered up and nervous as ever he see him and 'twon't do to keep him waitin' a minute. My savin' soul, no! Zach says for all hands to heave right straight ahead and come."

CHAPTER XX

In the melodramas, the sort which most people laugh at as "old- fashioned" and enjoy thoroughly, there is usually a scene in which the hero, or the heroine, or both, are about to be drowned in the sinking ship or roasted in the loft of the burning building, or butchered by the attacking savages, or executed by the villain and his agents. The audience enjoys some delightful thrills while watching this situation--whichever it may be--develop, but is spared any acute anxiety, knowing from experience that just at the last moment the rescuing boat, or the heroic firemen, or the troops, or a reprieve from the Governor, will arrive and save the leading man or woman and the play from a premature end and for another act.

It does not happen as often in real life, at least one cannot count upon it with the certainty of the theater. But when Miss Primrose Cash knocked upon the door of the Phipps' sitting room and delivered her call to the seance, she was as opportune and nick-of- timey as was ever a dramatic Governor's messenger. Certainly that summons of hers was to Galusha Bangs a reprieve which saved him from instant destruction.

Cousin Gussie, who had been on the point of repeating his demand to know if his relative was ill, turned instead to look toward the door. Martha, whose gaze had been fixed upon her lodger with an intentness which indicated at least the dawning of a suspicion, turned to look in the same direction. Galusha, left poised upon the very apex of the explosion, awaited the moment when the fragments, of which he was one, should begin to fall.

But they did not fall--then. Primmie gave them no opportunity to do so.

"Miss Martha," she cried, "Miss Martha, do you hear me? Zach--he says--"

Her mistress answered. "Yes, yes, Primmie," she said, "I hear you." Then, turning again toward the banker and his relative, she said, "Mr. Cabot, I--did I understand you to say--?"

"Miss Martha!" The voice outside the door was more insistent than ever. "Miss Martha, Zach he says we've all hands got to come right straight off, 'cause if we don't there'll be hell to pay. . . . My savin' soul, I never meant to say that, Miss Martha! Zach, he said it, but _I_ never meant to. I--I-- Oh, my Lord of Isrul! I--I-- oh, Miss Martha!"