Another pause.
"Any well-to-do people? Gentlemen who live on their means?"
"Yes; there's Aaron Thompson. He's rich, I guess. But you can't
measure a snake 'till he's dead, as they say."
"True," said the traveler, seeming to fall into the landlord's mood.
"Executors often change the public estimate of a man as to this
world's goods. So, Aaron Thompson is one of your rich men?"
"Yes, and there's Abel Reeder--a close-fisted old dog, but wealthy
as a Jew, and no mistake. Then there is Captain Allen."
A flash of interest went over the stranger's face, which was turned
at once from the light.
"Captain Allen! And what of him?" The voice was pitched to a lower
tone; but there was no appearance of special curiosity.
"A great deal of him." The landlord put on a knowing look.
"Is he a sea captain?"
"Yes;" and lowering his voice, "something else besides, if we are to
credit people who pretend to know."
"Ah! but you speak in riddles, Mr. Adams. What do you mean by
something more?"
"Why, the fact is, Mr. Willoughby, they do say, that he got his
money in a backhanded sort of fashion.
Pages:
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36