"They ought to be hanged," the old lady spoke up. "Oh, I knew something would happen the moment I put my foot off the place. I never did know it to fail. And I might have told this morning that something wrong was goin' to take place, for I had to try twice or three times before I could pick up anything when I stooped for it, and I saw a hen out in the yard trying to crow. But, Mr. Lyman," she added, reflectively, "I do hope you will think twice before you go to law about it. I don't tell you not to, mind you, for I am the last one in the world to tell a person not to have the law enforced, but if you could see that old woman--Zeb's mother--you wouldn't want to do a thing to bend her down with grief; it makes no difference how many laws it would enforce." "And besides what would the law do?" Annie broke in, to strengthen her mother's position. "You might have him arrested and all that, and a trial and a scandal, too, but after all, it wouldn't amount to anything. I should think that his conscience would punish him enough. And you couldn't have the others arrested without bringing him into it." "You don't need to argue any longer," Lyman replied. "The merest reference to his old mother settles it with me. The law part would be a farce anyway. But let me remind you that it is quite a serious thing when an American citizen is ordered to leave his home at the whim of a scoundrel." He bade them good night and went up to his room. The door lay upon the floor and fragments of the cast-iron lock were scattered about. The image of Sawyer arose before him, as he had appeared in the office, and so hateful and disturbing was the picture, that he arose and bathed his face, as if to wash out the vision. He heard a man's voice below and he stepped to the head of the stairs and listened. He recognized the voice of the town marshal. Already the law had begun its feeble farce. The marshal came up the stairs and looked around, at the door and the fragments of the lock. He took up a bit of iron and put it into his pocket, as if he had found a ton's weight of evidence. "I'll take this along," he said gravely. "Help yourself," said Lyman. "Yes, for little things count," the marshal replied with the air of a great and mysterious detective. "And now," he added, "have you any idea or any suspicion as to who led this gang?" Lyman had sat down and was crossed-legged, swinging one foot. "Oh," he answered carelessly, "I guess you know who it is. However, we will let the subject drop. I don't wish to discuss it." "But, my dear sir, the law--" Lyman held up his hand. "Let us hear nothing more about the law," said he. "Good night."