CHAPTER XV.
HIRAM SHANKS.
"Help! Murder!"
It was a startling cry that echoed through the grounds and fell on theear of the man who was passing.
He listened a moment, but the sound was not repeated.
Vaulting the fence, the man hastened in the direction of thesummer-house.
He soon gained a position where his black eyes took in a somewhatstartling scene--a tall, slender man bending over the prostrate form of awoman, the latter lying still and white on a low, wide bench.
"Have I killed her?" muttered the man, in audible tones. "Well, if Ihave, it is not my fault; she forced me to do it, and--"
He started then, and uttered a great cry. A hand touched his face, and aman's visage peered into his.
Instantly the hand of Barkswell sought his hip.
"Don't draw, brother, it's only me."
Barkswell stared in a startled way into the face of the new-comer.
It was indeed Perry Jounce, but he had changed so in the past four andtwenty hours as to seem like another man.
His beard was gone, and a new hat and suit of clothes altered hisappearance wonderfully.
"What have you been doing to yourself, Perry?"
"Fixing up so't I kin go sparkin' as well as you, brother darling,"returned the tramp, forcing a gurgling laugh. "What's up here? Irisdead--_you her murderer!_"
"Don't be a fool, Perry, she's only fainted."
"But I heard her scream murder."
The eyes of Perry Jounce pierced the guilty villain to the quick. Ifthere was one being in the wide world whom the miserable tramp loved,that person was his sister, the wife of Andrew Barkswell, and the onlykin he had in the wide world.
"She was in one of her tantrums, that is all."
"Man, I believe you're lyin' now."
"Be careful."
Barkswell drew his revolver.
The threat did not appear to affect Perry Jounce.
"It wouldn't be good fur you ter snap that pistol at me, Andy. I jestheard you say't mebbe you had killed her, meanin' Iris. Now what hev youben up to?--let's hear right down quick, or thar'll be a tussle righthyar and now."
There was a determined ring in the man's voice not to be mistaken.
Barkswell wished to avoid a quarrel, and so he said with a smile:
"You misunderstood my meaning entirely, Perry. Iris was determined onquarreling with me over an unimportant matter. You know she's terriblyjealous, and she worked herself up into a fainting fit."
Perry Jounce accepted the explanation with a growl. He did not attempt topush matters to a crisis. He had received some money from Barkswell, andwas anxious to keep in with that gentleman.
"Lead the way, pardner, and I'll take her to the house."
Perry Jounce lifted the seemingly lifeless form of his sister in his armsand strode from the summer-house.
Barkswell led the way to the cottage, and a little later the womanrevived. When questioned by Jounce she refused to make any explanation.
"Confound it," growled the tramp, "that man of yours'll kill you sometime, Iris, and you'll let 'im do it 'ithout making complaint."
"I should not care to see Andrew in prison."
"He may go thar yet."
"Anything new?"
"Somebody's got ter swing fer the crime at Ridgewood; why mayn't it beAndy?"
The woman started and grew pale as death.
Her brother thought she was on the point of fainting again.
"Don't worry," he cried, quickly. "It may never be fetched home to Andy."
"Do you believe he is guilty?"
"Don't you?"
He sought to evade the question.
"I--I cannot say. I have thought--"
"That _I_ had a hand in it, eh?"
The eyes of the tramp regarded his sister's face fixedly.
But Mrs. Barkswell refused to make reply. She shuddered and drew hershawl about her as though experiencing a sudden chill.
All this time her husband sat on the porch enjoying a cigar, his busybrain dwelling on the latest scheme it had conjured up.
It was unfortunate, he thought, Rose Alstine's coming at that inopportunemoment. He could not understand how it was that she put in an appearanceat his house.
"She mistook me for her lover, that is evident," he mused. "It wasunfortunate, and I may now have some trouble in convincing her that I amtrue. It is highly important that August Bordine does not meet her again.What a strong resemblance there must be between that man and myself todeceive the eyes of love.
"If I could only get rid of my wife and marry the heiress what a grandstroke it would be. Well, there's a saying that nothing venture nothinggain, and I mean to go in on that principle. I'll win the heiress, butfirst _two_ persons must cease to breathe."
Who these two persons were the reader can readily guess.
While the young schemer sat there smoking and meditating, a queer teamhalted in front of the cottage--a team of dogs attached to a smallwagon, in which sat a man, with deformed shoulders, and queer littleface, framed in red hair and beard, a black patch tied over one eye,while the other was exceedingly red and inflamed.
"Hello!" called the man from the street.
A smile touched the face of Andrew Barkswell.
"A confounded notion peddler," he muttered, "yet a queer-lookingspecimen."
"Hello!"
At the second call Barkswell rose to his feet and walked out to the gate.
"Be you the man of the house?"
"I am."
"Wal, I've got the neatest set o' table-clothes you ever set eyes on.Irish linen, direct from the green sod, warranted to be the best articleof the kind for the money in North America."
"I don't wish any."
"But you'll look at 'em. You're a gentleman; I can tell by the looks ofyour countenance."
"I don't care for any."
"Hair oil, toilet articles, the neatest--"
"You needn't mind showing them," as the little, elderly man sprang out ofhis low wagon and hobbled to the walk with a tin box under his arm.
"Where's the woman--your wife? Mebbe she'd like to look at something."
The man pushed his way through the gate and insisted on entering thehouse.
This was wholly unnecessary Barkswell thought, but he permitted thepeddler to have his way.
Iris and her brother entered t spread out his wares.
He talked glibly, but was such a repulsive-looking personage as to renderhis long stay objectionable. In order to be rid of him Mrs. Barkswellmade a small purchase, after which, finding that he could sell nothingfurther, the peddler thrust his wares back into the tin box and shuffledout of the room.
"Pretty place you've got here," he remarked, as he stood on the porch andgazed about him.
"Yes," admitted Barkswell.
"You own it?"
"Yes."
"Your name is--"
"Bordine."
The man uttered the name involuntarily. He had been acting as Bordine,and somehow, he seemed growing into that personage more and more.
"Well, well," grunted the peddler, holding out his hand, "You an' I oughtto be acquainted. My wife is your own aunt, did you know it?"
Andrew Barkswell regarded the speaker in astonishment. He thought hedetected an ironical ring in the man's voice, but when he glanced intothe fellow's face he seemed honest enough, in fact the red eye failed toshow the least feeling on the subject--the one under the black patch was,of course, as unspeakable as the tomb.
"I was not aware of the relationship," said the plotting villain, as heclasped the hand of the queer-looking peddler.
"Lor', that's funny."
"You don't live in town?"
"I reckon not. So you don't remember me, August?"
"I can't say that I do."
"You've certainly heard your ma speak of Hiram Shanks, the man thatmarried her youngest sister, Lucretia?"<
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Again the young man shook his head.
"Well, it beats all," grunted Mr. Shanks. "I thought you must have heardof me. Since my wife died I've kinder gone to rack and ruin. I ain't theman I used to be in my young days, oh no!" with a long-drawn sigh.
"I should judge not."
"Call your ma, August. I know she'll recognize the man that married hersister Lucretia."
"Mother isn't at home."
"Bad again. When will she return?"
"Not soon."
"Visitin'?"
"Yes."
"Would you mind lettin' me stop over night with ye? Hotel bills ispowerful large, and for the sake of relationship, I think you will let mebunk one night. My team won't eat much, and as for me, a crust of breadand cup o' tea will set the inner man in good shape."
"I am sorry, but--"
"Oh, no 'pologies. Of course, if you can't keep me it's all right. I'm nobeggar."
Once more the peddler shook the hand of Mr. Barkswell, and then shuffledaway. As he passed through the gate a bit of paper fluttered to theground from one of the peddler's pockets. After the queer fellow'sdeparture Barkswell secured the paper and could scarcely repress anexclamation as he read the lines it contained.