It could be no ordinary visitor, for it was after nine o’clock—it must be he.
Ha! the lights were out! He would be disappointed, the villain! Now was the time, while his heart would be bleeding with sorrow, to wither him with reproaches. To be sure, he seemed a large man, while Guzzy was very small, but Guzzy believed his own thin legs to be faithful in an emergency.
The unknown man knocked softly at the front door, then he seemed to tap at several of the windows.
Suddenly he raised one of the windows, and Guzzy, who had not until then suspected that he had been watching a house-breaker, sped away like the wind and alarmed the solitary constable of Bowerton.
That functionary requested Guzzy to notify Squire Jones, justice of the peace, that there was business ahead, and then hastened away himself.
Guzzy labored industriously for some moments, for Squire Jones was very old, and very cautious, and very stupid; but he was at last fully aroused, and then Guzzy had an opportunity to reflect on the greatness which would be his when Bowerton knew of his meritorious action.
And Helen Wyett—what would be her shame and contrition when she learned that the man whose love she had rejected had become the preserver of her peace of mind and her portable personal property?
He could not exult over her, for that would be unchivalrous; but would not her own conscience reproach her bitterly?
Perhaps she would burst into tears in the court-room, and thank him effusively and publicly! Guzzy’s soul swelled at the thought, and he rapidly composed a reply appropriate to such an occasion. Suddenly Guzzy heard footsteps approaching, and voices in earnest altercation.
Guzzy hastened into the squire’s office, and struck an attitude befitting the importance of a principal witness.