I had seen him before, a poor, weak-minded creature, wandering helplessly about the village, pitied, but spurned except when someone needed the help of powerful hands and a strong back.
Drooling and muttering, Will followed the circus men as they started off.
I idly strolled down the first street; then, reaching the outskirts of town, I found myself in the rear of the Thornsdale place. To my surprise, I beheld another warning notice similar to the one that Dr. Calgroni had tacked to his front gate last evening. Not only in one but many places, on trees and the high fence, I saw the warning signs of “No Trespassing.” The doctor himself was nowhere to be seen.
A week slipped by and nothing happened further than gossip concerning the queer doctor. Occasionally Dr. Calgroni, in person, purchased supplies and called for his mail. Although I contrived to be near him whenever possible, he seldom uttered more than half a dozen words—and never to me. Once, though, I thought I caught him peering surreptitiously at me in a queer manner.
Obviously, the doctor was his own servant, housekeeper and cook. No one took the risk of entering his place—not even the daring Jason Murdock.
Several days before the circus arrived, I noticed what I considered a peculiarly significant happening—Dr. Calgroni walking toward his abode, with Simple Will tagging, doglike, a few paces behind.
At discreet distance, I followed them. Arriving at the Thornsdale place, I was surprised to see the doctor close the gate behind him, leaving Will standing outside. The half-wit stood there until Dr. Calgroni disappeared.
The day before the show came, I saw the doctor clapping Will on the shoulder and talking to him.
That night such a terrible conclusion shaped itself in my mind as to the meaning of the singular boxes, the hostile notices, Will’s attitude toward the doctor, and the latter’s interest in him, that it kept me wide awake.
In ill humor at myself, I rose at the first appearance of the sun. Remembering the circus, I strolled over to the tracks to watch it unload.