“This—er—this is insanity—this—”
Stillman pressed his evident advantage home. He held up a charred match.
“Here is one of them. I found it in the barrel—and there’s another one there.”
The guest found his voice at once.
“Yes—and put them there yourself!”
It was recognized a good shot. Stillman retorted.
“It is wax—a breed unknown to this camp. I am ready to be searched for the box. Are you?”
The guest was staggered this time—the dullest eye could see it. He fumbled with his hands; once or twice his lips moved, but the words did not come. The house waited and watched, in tense suspense, the stillness adding effect to the situation. Presently Stillman said, gently,
“We are waiting for your decision.”
There was silence again during several moments; then the guest answered, in a low voice,