r the closet where you keep the skeleton. But rest this night in
peace, Pharaoh. I am going away."

"I can sleep better for knowing that you are out of this town."

"Then promise me that you will sleep to-night--sleep soundly. That
thought will cheer me as I go on my way." Britt started along, making
no reply. "I bespeak for you sleep without dreams," the Prophet called
after him. "Your dreams, Pharaoh, might be colored with some of the
realities--and that would be bad, very bad for your peace of mind."

Once more Britt strode back from the vapors. "Are you trying to
provoke me to smash my fist into your face? Are you trying to cook up a
blackmail damage suit by the advice of that crook lawyer who bailed you
out? I'm beginning to see why a lawyer was enough interested in you to
get you back into this town."

"You guess shrewdly, Pharaoh. You have avoided the deep plot against
your wealth. Let the thought make you sleep soundly to-night. I'm glad
to make my confession and hope it will add to your peace of mind."

Usial Britt had appeared in the door of his cottage; he leaned lazily
against the jamb. "It will be a fine night for sleeping," he remarked,
amiably. "This fog is sort of relaxing to the nerves!"

"Hold one moment, Pharaoh!" pleaded Elias. The appearance of the hated
brother had started the magnate off once more. "I am anxious to make
your night a peaceful one. If you see me go away, knowing that I shall
not return again before your face, the comfort of your knowledge will
lull you to sleep. Wait!"

He stepped to the door of the cottage, reached inside, and secured a
long staff. He picked up from the floor a huge horn--a sort of trump.
He settled the curve of the instrument over his shoulder. He blew a
long and resounding blast. Then he marched away, taking long strides.
He loomed in the first stratum of the vapor, the radiance from the open
door showing him as an eerie figure; then the fog swallowed him up.
Every few moments he sounded a mighty blast on the trump. The blare
of the horn rolled echoes afar in the murk. Steadily the volume of the
sound decreased; it was plain that the Prophet was traveling at good
speed.

"Well, I'll be dimdaddled!" grunted Mr. Bangs. His was the only comment
on the departure of Prophet Elias from the land of Egypt--that is to
say, the only comment passed by the group in front of Files's tavern.
Tasper Britt went his way toward the Harnden home, his lodgings still.
Usial