“Mister Sheriff,” Senator Banning was saying, “we shall make no progress in this affair until the man who escaped from custody here last night has been apprehended. You must impress a hundred—a thousand deputies into service if necessary, and begin a systematic search of every house, every hillside in Western Massachusetts. I suggest that you throw a line from here——”
They were craning their necks to follow his finger across the map spread out on the table, when Miss Collingwood’s voice was heard:
“I tell you again I saw that man in the post office this morning, and the clerk told me he is Laurance Farrington, the fool who writes such preposterous novels.”
“Madam,” said the sheriff irritably, “you’ve said that before; but it’s impossible! I know Mr. Farrington and he wouldn’t harm a flea. And the folks at his house told me an hour ago that he was away looking for the lost girl.”
“Only a bluff!” squeaked Coningsby. “He looked to me like a bad man.”
“Oh, I didn’t think he looked so rotten,” said Zaliska; “but if he’s Farrington I must say his books bore me to death!”
“Please remember this isn’t a literary club!” shouted Senator Banning. “What do we care about his books if he’s a kidnapper! What we’re trying to do is to plan a thorough search of Berkshire County—of the whole United States, if necessary.”
“So far as I’m concerned——” began Farrington in a loud voice; but as twenty other voices were raised at the same moment no one paid the slightest attention to him. Their indifference enraged him and he pushed his way roughly to the table and confronted Banning. “While you’ve wasted your time looking for me I’ve been—— Stand back! Don’t come a step nearer until I’ve finished or I’ll kill you!”
It was Gadsby who had caused the interruption, but the whole room was now in an uproar. With every one talking at once Coningsby’s high voice alone rose above the tempest. He wished he was armed; he would do terrible things!
“Let the man tell his story,” pleaded Mrs. Banning between sobs.