“Have, eh?” asked Filhiol with a sharp look. “Well then, all you’ve got to do is look at the paper.”
“The—h-m!”
“Of course you know he keeps it on a paper?” said the doctor shrewdly.
“Oh, sure, sure! But just now I disremember where that paper is!”
Filhiol retreated to the dining-room, and beckoned Ezra to him.
“See here,” said he in a low tone, “this game of yours is pitifully thin. Why don’t you own up to the truth? Your loyalty to Hal is wonderful. The recording angel is writing it all down in his big book; but you can’t fool anybody. Why, not even a child would believe you, Ezra, and how can I—a hard-shelled old man who’s knocked up and down the seven seas? You know perfectly well Hal Briggs stole that money. Own up now!”
The old cook fixed a look of ire on him, and with clenched fist confronted Filhiol.
“Doctor,” said he, “there’s two things makes most o’ the trouble in this here world. One is evil tongues, to speak ill o’ folks, an’ the other is evil ears, to listen. There’s jest two things you can’t do here—speak ill o’ the cap’n, an’ talk ag’in’ Master Hal. Ef you do, doc—it don’t signify ef you be old, I’ll make it damn good an’ hot fer you! Now, then, I’ve warned you proper. That’s all—an’ that’s enough!”
“You don’t understand—” the doctor was just going to retort, when a trample of feet on the front porch brought him to silence.