Then he and Colonel Harrington were alone. The latter was in a pitiable condition of fear and humiliation.
"See here, Stirling," he said finally, "I'll confess the truth. I've done wrong. There's a paper in that package that would mean disgrace for me if it was made public. I'll own to that, but it's over a dead and buried business, and it can do no good to make it public property now. I warn you if it is, I will shoot myself through the head."
Bart doubted if the colonel had the courage to carry out his threat, but he temporized with the great man, got him to make enough admissions to somewhat clear the situation, and the long discussion ended with the announcement by Colonel Harrington that he "would go."
In other words, he confessed that Baker, Bart's friend and the highest bidder for the mysterious express package, was a prisoner in his barn.
In some way Lem Wacker had become aware of Baker's secret, whatever that was, and had helped the colonel in his efforts to suppress Baker and secure possession of the package.
Bart was shocked at this exhibition of cold-blooded villainy on the part of a representative member of the community, although he had never had much use for the pompous, domineering old tyrant, who now led the way through the silent Streets of Pleasantville as meek as a lamb.
He took Bart through the beautiful grounds of his sumptuous home, and to a windowless padlocked room in the loft of the stable.
Poor Baker, his hands secured with stout pieces of wire, arose from a stool with a gleam of hope on his pallid face as Bart followed the colonel into the room.
"See here, Baker—which isn't your name—but it will do—" said the colonel at once, "things have turned your way. Your friend here, young Stirling, has got the whip-hand—I am cornered, and admit it. I want to make a proposition to you, Stirling needn't hear it. When you have decided, we will call him into the room again and he will see that you get your rights. Is that satisfactory?"
"What shall I do?" asked Baker of Bart.