“Did almost. Killing too easy. Better to flog. Torture,” declared Buel Vanton, reflectively. “Afterward Captain King. Knew him in San Francisco. Retired. Devil. Swore he’d get even. Then Captain Hawkins died. King heard of it. Near crazy. I’ve come to tell you he’s dead!” “Dead?” echoed Keturah Smiley, who had become slightly confused by the visitor’s elliptical language. “Captain Hawkins is dead. Of course he’s dead, what of it?” “Not Hawkins, King!” barked Captain Vanton from his impassive face framed in the spreading sidewhiskers. “He’s done you all the harm he ever will. All of you. He’s dead. ‘The King is dead. Long live the King!”’ He uttered a harsh sound, a bitter laugh. Turning squarely about he started off the porch and away from the house. Keturah Smiley, who had been eyeing him with amazement, suddenly called after him, “How do you know he’s dead?” Captain Vanton half turned his head. “Killed him myself,” he declared abruptly, and lurched away. IV Standing well back in the hall Mermaid had heard this extraordinary conversation. Now she slipped into the front parlour ahead of Miss Smiley, who stood, apparently forgetful or stunned, for two or three minutes in the open doorway. Then she closed the door with a bang, entered the front parlour, and went through it into the living room. She stood before the stove a moment, warming her hands. Her face was working and her mouth was twisting, but her lips remained closed. Mermaid looked at her with deep sympathy and with a certain terror at the memory of what she had just heard. Neither emotion drowned the awful curiosity within the girl to know what it had all been about. But she dared not ask questions. In silence the two got their supper, in silence they ate it. Once Keturah Smiley sighed, once she spoke, but only to say: “Thank the Lord, John will be coming over to-morrow!” Mermaid, who had been looking forward to this visit of her Dad, thinking he might give her a scooter ride on the smoothly frozen bay, said: “How rich do you suppose Cap’n Vanton is, Miss Smiley?” Keturah looked at her absently. “Not rich enough to buy an easy conscience, probably,” she replied, drily. Mermaid hesitated, and then took her courage in both hands. “Miss Smiley, I heard some of what he said. I--I guess I heard most of it,” she said. Keturah showed neither surprise nor anger. She looked at Mermaid attentively and there was a flicker of interest in her eyes as she asked: “Well, and what did you make of it?” “He said he’d killed a Captain King!” the girl blurted out. “How could he do that and not be in jail for it?” “Maybe he has been,” Keturah suggested. “But then how could he be so rich?” persisted Mermaid. “Maybe it isn’t his money,” Miss Smiley replied. “It seems to be now.” Mermaid rested on the fact, solidly buttressed by all appearances. “So it does,” agreed the woman.