t, as I came in sight of the
Colton house, I saw lights in the rooms on the lower floor. The family,
not being native born Denboroites, had not retired even though it was
well after ten. I hastened up the long drive, and stood before the big
door, my hand upraised to the knocker. And then, just for a moment, I
hesitated.

If I lifted that knocker and let it fall; if I summoned the servant and
announced that I wished to speak with Mr. Colton; if I did what I had
come there to do, it would be all over with me in the village. My new
born popularity, the respect which Cap'n Warren and Cap'n Jed and
the rest of the townspeople had shown toward me of late, the cordial
recognition which had been mine during the past few weeks and which,
in spite of pretended indifference, I had come to expect and enjoy, all
these would be lost if I persisted in my purpose. My future in Denboro
depended upon whether or not I knocked at that door. And it was not too
late to back out, even yet. I had only to turn quietly away and tell
George, when I saw him in the morning, that I could not help him as I
had hoped. And then I thought of his face as I saw it when I entered the
bank--and of Nellie's letter to me.

I seized the knocker and rapped sharply.

For a few moments my knock was unanswered. Then I heard footsteps and
the door was opened. Johnson, the butler, opened it, and his clerical
countenance assumed a most astonished expression when he saw me standing
before him.

"Is Mr. Colton in?" I asked.

"What? What--sir?" stammered Johnson. The "sir" was added under protest.
He did not wish to show more respect than was absolutely necessary to a
countryman, but he scarcely dared speak as disrespectfully as he felt.
Therefore he compromised by voicing the respect and looking the other
way.

"Is Mr. Colton in?" I repeated.

"I don't know. I--I don't think so--sir."

The windows at my left were, I knew, those of the library, the room
where "Big Jim" and I had had our first lively discussion of the Shore
Lane matter. I glanced at them.

"I think he is," I said. "In fact I know it; there is his shadow on the
curtain. Tell him Mr. Paine wishes to speak with him."

Johnson looked as insolent as he dared, and still hesitated.

"It is very late," he said. "Mr. Colton is not in the 'abit of receiving
callers at this time of night and--"

He was interrupted. The door behind him, the door leading from the
library to the hall, opened and Colto