The remembrance of the way he had been affronted and outwitted chafed Peter's spirit uncontrollably. He rose and began pacing up and down the little porch, hands thrust deep into his trousers pockets.
"About an hour after we put you to bed," he exploded, "I slipped downstairs to tell Hare to keep everybody off the place. However, a lot of people had already come in. I glanced in at the parlor and it seemed full of them—Mrs. Carstairs and Mrs. Marne—they were the first to get here after Hare's delegation—Hammerton and another man from the Gazette, the committeemen, and several I'd never laid eyes on before. Well, there in a corner, looking like a hired mourner at a nigger funeral, sat that fellow Higginson. You could have knocked me flat with a pin feather. I'm as sure as I stand here that it was he who worked up that mob for Ryan, and the whole dirty scheme—and then coming around with his tongue in his cheek to inquire after the victim! Can you beat that gall?"
"Not easily. What happened?"
"They asked me how you were. I told'em. Then I said before the room-full: 'I was very sorry to find you out this afternoon, Mr. Higginson, when I called at your hotel.' The fellow looked white as a sheet and mumbled something I couldn't catch. Well—I couldn't smash him there before all the women, so I said: 'Please don't go away this time until I see you. I'm most anxious to have a little private conversation with you.' Oh, of course that was a mistake—I hate to think about it! But—well, I was a good deal worried just then," he explained, rather sheepishly, "and fact is, for the minute I wasn't thinking very much about Higginson. I needn't add that he had sneaked when I came down again. Had the cheek to leave behind a message with Hare saying he regretted to miss me, but felt it his duty to escort the ladies home."
Varney, though he had grounds for animosity which Peter never even guessed, laughed aloud. But it was a brief laugh, which quickly faded.
"And he's never been seen or heard of from that day to this? Well, for my part," he went on, rather constrainedly, "I'm almost ready to believe the man's a myth—a mere personification of evil—an allegorical name for the powers of darkness—"
"Myth!" cried Peter. "You'll see! Why, he's certain to turn up again, Larry—absolutely certain. You couldn't keep him away with a flock of cannon. If he doesn't come before, it's dead sure that he'll appear among us again on election day—four days from now—just to see the results of his pretty work. And when he does—"
"Well?" said Varney, amused through his own heartsoreness by Peter's vehemence. "When he does?"
"I've got two men watching every train, day and night," said Peter. "When Higginson sets foot in this town again, one man trails him, and the other runs for me…. Well, I'm a generous and forbearing man, Larry, and I recall that you havn't had much fun here. I'll—yes, hang it all!—I'll bring the old rogue to you, dead or alive, and stand by in silence while you speak him your little piece."