“No. No one has been here this afternoon. I've been in since one o'clock, and not a soul has called, on business or otherwise.”
The lightkeeper could scarcely believe it.
“You're sure?” he demanded.
“Certainly. If they came before one my wife would have told me, I think. I'll ask her.”
“No, no,” hastily. “You needn't. If they ain't been since one they ain't been. But I don't understand. . . . There's no other lawyer nigh here, is there?”
“No; none nearer than Bayport.”
“My land! My LAND! Then—then I'm out of soundin's somehow. They never came for it, after all.”
“Came for what?”
“Nothin', nothin', I guess,” with a sickly smile. “I've made some sort of mistake, though I don't know how. Benije must have . . . I'll break that feller's neck; I will!”
The lawyer began to share the blacksmith's opinion that his caller had gone crazy.