. . . I forgot to put the tea in it. . . . But it don't
make any difference; I ain't hungry--or thirsty, either."
Phillips leaned forward and laid a hand on the older man's shoulder.
"Jed," he said gently, "I know why you're not hungry. Oh, Jed,
what in the world made you do it?"
Jed started back so violently that his chair almost upset. He
raised a hand with the gesture of one warding off a blow.
"Do?" he gasped. "Do what?"
"Why, what you did about that money that Captain Hunniwell lost.
What made you do it, Jed?"
Jed's eyes closed momentarily. Then he opened them and, without
looking at his visitor, rose slowly to his feet.
"So Sam told you," he said, with a sigh. "I--I didn't hardly think
he'd do that. . . . Course 'twas all right for him to tell," he
added hastily. "I didn't ask him not to, but--but, he and I havin'
been--er--chums, as you might say, for so long, I--I sort of
thought. . . . Well, it don't make any difference, I guess. Did
he tell your--your sister? Did he tell her how I--how I stole the
money?"
Charles shook his head.
"No," he said quietly. "No, he didn't tell either of us that. He
told us that you had tried to make him believe you took the money,
but that he knew you were not telling the truth. He knew you
didn't take it."
"Eh? Now . . . now, Charlie, that ain't so.
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