themselves at her feet. Had she simply told her story they would have
believed her; had she cried, fainted, or gone into hysterics, they
would have pitied her. She did neither. Perhaps she thought of neither,
or indeed of anything that was then before her eyes. She walked erect
to the door and turned upon the threshold. "I mean what I say," she
said calmly. "I don't understand you. But whatever just claims you have
upon my husband will be paid by me, or by his lawyer, Captain
Poindexter."

She had lost the sympathy but not the respect of her hearers. They made
way for her with sullen deference as she passed out on the platform.
But her adversary, profiting by the last opportunity, burst into an
ironical laugh.

"Captain Poindexter, is it? Well, perhaps he's safe to pay _your_ bill;
but as for your husband's"--

"That's another matter," interrupted a familiar voice with the greatest
cheerfulness; "that's what you were going to say, wasn't it? Ha! ha!
Well, Mrs. Patterson," continued Poindexter, stepping from his buggy,
"you never spoke a truer word in your life.--One moment, Mrs. Tucker.
Let me send you back in the buggy. Don't mind _me_. I can get a fresh
horse of the sheriff. I'm quite at home here." Then, turning to one of
the bystanders, "I say, Patterson, step a few paces this way, will you?
A little further from your wife, please. That will do. You've got a
claim of five thousand dollars against the property, haven't you?"

"Yes."

"Well, that woman just driving away is your one solitary chance of
getting a cent of it. If your wife insults her again, that chance is
gone. And if _you_ do"--

"Well?"

"As sure as there is a God in Israel and a Supreme Court of the State
of California, I'll kill you in your tracks!.... Stay!"

Patterson turned. The irrepressible look of humorous tolerance of all
human frailty had suffused Poindexter's black eyes with mischievous
moisture. "If you think it quite safe to confide to your wife this
prospect of her improvement by widowhood, you may!"

III.

Mr. Patterson did not inform his wife of the lawyer's personal threat
to himself. But he managed, after Poindexter had left, to make her
conscious that Mrs. Tucker might be a power to be placated and feared.
"You've shot off your mouth at her," he said argumentatively, "and
whether you've hit the mark or not you've had your say. Ef you think
it's worth a possible five thousand dollars and interest to keep on,
heave ahe