When somebody tramped on to the porch and pounded on the door, the interruption was startling.
The Squire went and opened the door and disclosed Deputy-Warden Bangs of the state prison. But when Bangs made a step forward the notary bulked himself in the doorway with all the dignity his modest size would permit.
“I'm led to believe that you have in this house an escaped convict, name of Vaniman,” declared the officer.
“Don't your prison records show that the convict named Vaniman is officially dead, sir?”
“I'll admit that; but if what I have heard since I was routed out of my bed is so, those records will have to be revised.”
“I have no control over your records,” returned the Squire, grimly.
Mr. Bangs made another step forward.
“But I have full control over my own house, sir. You cannot come in.”
“Do you stand in the way of a deputy warden of the state prison?”
“I certainly do until he presents himself in my door with a proper search warrant, instead of coming here on the strength of mere hearsay.”