“What you been up to whilst I was gone, Ed Howe?” he demanded.
Ed looked at him in surprise. “We-ell—I’ve smoked two pipes.”
Jim strode to the ballot box, shook it, stared into its slot as though to read its secret.
Ned Bentley came in. He wished to cast his vote, and proceeded to do so. As he was about to go, he paused for a moment on the threshold.
“Has anybody here seen Wint?” he asked.
It was the stressing of his words that startled Jim. This stress, the emphasis of the verb, suggested that they had been discussing Wint, or that Wint must be in all their thoughts. And Jim had not thought of Wint Chase for days.
“Why should we have seen Wint?” he demanded, and looked at Ed Howe. Ed was grinning.
Of a sudden, light burst on Jim Thomas. It was not all the truth that he guessed. But it was enough of it to make his head swim. Without a word, he leaped for the street and ran across to the hotel—where there was a telephone.
Ed Howe watched him go—and grinned. “I declare—Jim acts right crazy,” he drawled.
Jim came back presently, a grim set about his jaw. He had no word for any of them. But he went to the voting list and copied the names of those citizens who had not yet voted, and went to the telephone again. When he returned this time, it was five minutes to four o’clock.