“Oncet or twicet, maybe, and I cain’t say but that it does look like the feller, and, come to think on’t, Mr. Rupert did look like the doctor more’n this before he shaved off his mustache!” returned Jake, giving himself away thoughtlessly, as the doctor hoped he would.
“So this is John Rupert, the wounded stranger?” he exclaimed.
“Well, now, mister, I’ve let the cat out o’ the bag, ain’t I?” the ferryman exclaimed, in dismay. “Well, well, as wife said last night, ’tain’t a hangin’ secret, and I never could see why the young feller objected to my havin’ his picture, so that I had to get a snapshot at him on the sly one day when he was lookin’ out o’ the garret winder. He was mighty close-mouthed, and I don’t talk about him much, ’cause I know as he wouldn’t wish it, and he was kind and liberal to us, sending us money and presents after he went away, you see!”
Doctor St. Clair began to feel so sure of his ground that his eyes gleamed, and a sinister, exulting smile played around his bearded lips.
“What air you a-grinnin’ at, stranger?” demanded Mandy resentfully, fearing his derision was directed at her shabby gingham gown.
“I was laughing at your credulity, my good friends,” he replied.
“As how?” queried Jake, wrinkling his bushy gray brows in an angry frown. Mountaineers are very dignified, and resent ridicule of themselves.
Doctor St. Clair repressed his smile and answered coolly:
“My good friends, you have been duped. You have nursed a viper in your breast.”
“As how?” the ferryman demanded stupidly.