"He said he knew what he was doing and I must keep my mouth shut, or he would lay the whole thing off on to me. Then I up and knocked him down, madam, and when he comes back it will be limping and with a black eye. But I don't care," added the farmer defiantly. "He deserved it."
"I do not blame you, Mr. Parsons," said Mrs. Vernon quietly. "It was a--a mean thing for him to do."
"Some folks would have him arrested for it, madam."
"I do not doubt but that they would. Where did you leave my nephew?"
"I left him to find his way back to the village the best he could. But before we parted I took this thing away from him. I was afraid if I didn't he might shoot me."
Farmer Parsons reached into one of the deep pockets of his coat and brought forth a nickel-plated revolver.
Mrs. Vernon received it gingerly and passed it over to Robert.
"Is it empty?" she asked.
"No, it has two cartridges still in it," answered the young secretary, after an examination.
"I do not know what to do with it, Robert. I do not want it."