Bonesy Billings flourished a long, powerful arm, and there was a bludgeon in his grip.
There could be no doubt as to what he intended. His hard face was set, and he meant business.
He did not continue his harangue. He looked over the stern faces of his followers, and he knew that they would stand by him to the end. They felt that they had suffered the worst kind of injustice and that no punishment would be too great for the men guilty of it.
It was only about a week before that suspicion began to ripen into conviction. There had been mumblings among those who could not get to see the places they had bought. They wanted to know what they had to show for their money besides the gaudy “certificates” that had been issued by the Paradise City Improvement Company.
There were no real signatures on the certificates. Such names as were there had not been written. They were facsimiles of signatures that no one recognized. Neither “Powers,” “Lampton,” or “Howard Milmarsh” were among them. This omission had been pointed out in the meetings that had been held. Bonesy Billings laid particular stress on this. He also had his eye on other details which did not appeal to him as sound.
For example, he had known the young man who lay in Universal Hospital very well, and had liked him. To Billings he was known as Bob Gordon. But Billings knew that Bessie Silvius and her father, old Roscoe Silvius, declared that he was really Howard Milmarsh. If this Bob Gordon could only tell what he knew, it might straighten out the Paradise City affair. Billings could not see how anybody else had a right to the name of Howard Milmarsh and to sell land belonging to the estate.
He turned to look again at his followers. He had taken his place on a large stump at the side of the road when he made his speech, and he was still there when he decided to send forth a last word of direction and warning.
“It’s near two mile up to the front door of the Milmarsh house,” he told them in his stentorian tones. “You’d better walk in reg’lar double formation—that is, two by two. Me an’ Kid Plang,” indicating his stalwart lieutenant, “will lead. Keep yer lamps on us, an’ be ready to take orders as I give ’em. We’ve got to have discerpline if we’re goin’ to git anywhere. Don’t fail to remember that there. Forward! March!”
Steadily the double column moved on. The road was smooth, and, though it was uphill, no one seemed to mind it. All were keyed up for action, and thought only of obtaining recompense for what they paid out and suffered as the result of what, they were now convinced, was nothing but a heartless fraud.
Up the winding carriage drive they marched, and soon were gathered on the wide porch in front of the tall, forbidding-looking house.