Judging by the Captain's expression his conviction that all hands, himself included, had lost their reason was momentarily growing firmer.
“ME?” he gasped. “You done somethin' to me and I—well, by Judas, this is—”
“Hush, Shadrach! What was it you done, Mary, that made you afraid of Cap'n Gould? Tell me. I won't hurt you and I won't let anybody else.”
“YOU won't let—Zoeth Hamilton, I swan, I—”
“Be still, Shadrach, for mercy sakes! Now, what was it, dearie?”
Mary-'Gusta hesitated. Then she buried her face in Mr. Hamilton's jacket and sobbed a confession.
“I—I made it go,” she cried. “I—I broke the—the catch—and it was wound up and—and it went off. But I didn't know. I didn't mean—”
“There, there, course you didn't. We know you didn't. What was it that went off?”
“The—the music chair. It was in the corner and Mr. Hallett took it and—and I couldn't say anything 'cause Mrs. Hobbs said I mustn't speak a word at the funeral. And—and he set in it and it played and—Oh, don't let him put me in jail! Please don't.”
Another burst of tears. Mary-'Gusta clung tightly to the Hamilton jacket. Judge Baxter looked as if a light had suddenly broken upon the darkness of his mind.