“Yes, that gives me great satisfaction. I do not wish Squire Haynes any harm, but I am determined that justice shall be done. Otherwise than that, if I can be of any service to him, I shall not refuse.”
“I remember now,” said Frank, after a moment's pause, “that, on the first Sunday you appeared at church, Squire Haynes stopped me to inquire who you were.”
“I am thought to look much as my father did. He undoubtedly saw the resemblance. I have often caught his eyes fixed upon me in perplexity when he did not know that I noticed him. It is fourteen years since my father died. Retribution has been slow, but it has come at last.”
“When do you go on to New York?” asked Frank, recalling the agent's request.
“I shall start to-morrow morning. For the present I will ask you to keep what I have said a secret even from your good mother. It is as well not to disturb Squire Haynes in his fancied security until we are ready to overwhelm him with our evidence.”
“How long shall you be absent, Mr. Morton?”
“Probably less than a week. I shall merely say that I have gone on business. I trust to your discretion to say nothing more.”
“I certainly will not,” said Frank. “I am very much obliged to you for having told me first.”
The two rose from their grassy seats, and walked slowly back to the farmhouse.