d not feel the anger in his tones; it seemed like protection, for
which she had hungered.

"Why, sir, all women must support their poor kin."

"Men don't do it!" exclaimed Duff Salter, pushing aside his gray apron
of beard to see her more distinctly. "Did that brother who rushed in
vicious precocity to maintain another and a wicked woman ever think of
relieving you from hard labor?"

"He never could be anything less to me than brother!" exclaimed Podge;
"but, Mr. Salter, if that was only all I had to trouble me! Oh, sir,
work is occupation, but work harassed with care for others becomes
unreal. I cannot sleep, thinking for Agnes. I cannot teach, my head
throbs so. That river, so cold and impure, going along by the wharves,
seems to suck and plash all day in my ears, as we see and hear it now.
At my desk I seem to see those low shores and woods and marshes, on the
other side, and the chatter of children, going all day, laps and eddies
up like dirty waves between me and that indistinct boundary. I am
floating on the river current, drowning as I feel, reaching out for
nothing, for nothing is there. All day long it is so. I was the best
teacher in my rank, with certainty of promotion. I feel that I am losing
confidence. It is the river, the river, and has been so since it gave up
those dead bodies to bring us only ghosts and desolation."

"It was a faithful witness," spoke Duff Salter, still harsh, as if under
an inner influence. "Yes, a boy--a little boy such as you teach at
school--had the strength to break the solid shield of ice under which
the river held up the dead and bring the murder out. Do you ever think
of that as you hear a spectral river surge and buoy upward, whose waves
are made by children's murmurs--innocent children haunting the guilty?"

"Do you mean me, Mr. Salter? Nothing haunts me but care."

"I have been haunted by a ghost," continued Duff Salter. "Yes, the ghost
of my playmate has come to my threshold and peeped on me sitting there
inattentive to his right to vengeance. We shall all be haunted till we
give our evidence for the dead. No rest will come till that is done."

"I must go," cried Podge Byerly. "You terrify me."

"Tell me," asked Duff Salter in a low tone, "has Andrew Zane been seen
by Agnes Wilt since he escaped?"

"Don't ask me."

"Tell me, and I will give you a sum of money which shall get you rest
for years. Open your mind to me, and I will send you to Europe. Your
brother sha