“Good turn! Look here, Captain Townsend! I’ll tell _you_ something now. It isn’t your smart scheming and underhand planning and all the rest of it, that is sending me to Europe. That hasn’t influenced me in the least. No, nor it wasn’t Esther’s telling me I ought to go, either. I knew perfectly well where I ought to be and that was right here where I could block the little game you and--and--that other fellow were playing. If she--if I hadn’t found out from her--and from no one else--that--that--” He paused. He was saying far more than he should and he realized it. “Oh, well!” he ended, scornfully. “What is the use? I don’t want your letters or money or any other favors. I am going away. Let that satisfy you. It ought to.” He turned his back upon the caller. Foster Townsend rose to his feet. “All right, Griffin,” he said. “Your business isn’t mine, of course. Now, then, there is something which _is_ my business, in a way, and before you put me off on the other tack we were talking about it. I’d like to have you tell me just where it was you found Seymour the other night. We are going to take him up to the Boston hospital in a day or so--to-morrow maybe--and his father will meet us there. He will want particulars. Where was he when you found him?” Here was where Bob’s story was to have begun its deviation from the truth. He had intended saying that he came upon the span, and Covell, at a point on the main road just beyond the livery stable. Now there was no such idea in his head. Why should he lie to this man? He would not. “What difference does it make where I found him?” he said. “I did find him and I brought him home. That is all I care to tell about it.” Townsend rubbed his beard. “Humph!” he observed. “So that’s all, eh? Why?” “Because--well, because I choose to make it so.” “That’s kind of funny, seems to me. Griffin, there is a lot of whispering going about; did you know it? From what I hear you haven’t told any one the whole story. Don’t you think you had better tell it to me?” “No.” “Well, if you won’t I don’t see how I can make you.” “You can’t.” “Humph! What is it you are so anxious to hide? If you shut up this way I shall think you are hiding something, of course. And so will everybody else.” “Let them think what they please. There is nothing _I_ am ashamed of in it. I will say that much.” “Um-hum. Then there _is_ something shameful for somebody; eh?” “Captain Townsend, I have told you all I shall ever tell any one. And,” earnestly, “if you take my advice you will be satisfied and do your best to keep the town satisfied with that much. One of your horses kicked Covell in the head. It was an accident and no one in particular was to blame for it. There! that is the last word I shall say now, or any other time. Good day.” Foster Townsend’s hat was in his hand, but he did not go. He was obviously perplexed and troubled.