“I was just wondering if there's anything wrong with Craig,” said Miller. “I see his door's not open.”
“Oh, I reckon not,” said the old lawyer. “He's been taking part in the meeting. He may have overslept.”
There was a grocery-store near Miller's office, and the proprietor came out on the sidewalk and joined the two men. His name was Barnett. He was a powerful man, who stood six feet five in his boots; he wore no coat, and his suspenders were soiled and knotted.
“I see you-uns is watchin' Craig's door,” he said. “I've had my eye on it ever since breakfast. I hardly know what to make of it. I went thar to buy some New York exchange to pay for a bill o' flour, but he wouldn't let me in. I know he's thar, for I seed 'im go in about an hour ago. I mighty nigh shook the door off'n the hinges. His clerk, that Western fellow, Win-ship, has gone off to visit his folks, an' I reckon maybe Craig's got all the book-keepin' to do.”
“Well, he oughtn't to keep his doors closed at this time of day,” remarked Miller. “A man who has other people's money in his charge can' t be too careful.”
“He's got some o' mine,” said the grocer, “and Mary Ann Tarpley, my wife's sister, put two hundred thar day before yesterday. Oh, I reckon nothin' s wrong, though I do remember I heerd somebody say Craig bought cotton futures an' sometimes got skeerd up a little about meetin' his obligations.”
“I have never heard that,” said Rayburn Miller, raising his brows.
“Well, I have, an' I've heerd the same o' Winship,” said the grocer, “but I never let it go no furder. I ain't no hand to circulate ill reports agin a good member of the church.”
Miller bit his lip and an unpleasant thrill passed over him as Trabue walked on. “Twenty-five thousand,” he thought, “is no small amount. It would tempt five men out of ten if they were inclined to go wrong, and were in a tight.”
The grocer was looking at him steadily.