Reuben interrupted her with an abrupt laugh. “I’m not thinking of them,” he said. “Poor foolish fellows, I don’t wish them any harm. I only pray God they haven’t done too much harm to themselves. No: it’s the swindling scoundrels who are responsible for the mischief--_they_ are the ones I’ll put the clamps onto to-morrow.” The words conveyed no meaning to her, and she kept silent until he spoke further: “I don’t know whether he told you, but Gedney has brought me to-night the last links needed for a chain of proof which must send all three of these ruffians to State prison. I haven’t had time to examine the papers yet, but he says he’s got them in his pocket there--affidavits from the original inventor of certain machinery, about its original sale, and from others who were a party to it--which makes the whole fraud absolutely clear. I’ll go over them to-night, when we’ve seen this thing through”--pointing vaguely with his whip toward the reddened sky--“and if tomorrow I don’t lay all three of them by the heels, you can have my head for a foot-ball!” “I don’t understand these things very well,” said Jessica. “Who is it you mean?” It was growing still harder for her to breathe, and sharp pain came in her breast now with almost every respiration. Her head ached, too, so violently that she cared very little indeed who it was that should go to prison tomorrow. “There are three of them in the scheme,” said the lawyer; “as cold-blooded and deliberate a piece of robbery as ever was planned. First, there’s a New York man named Wendover--they call him a Judge--a smart, subtle, slippery scoundrel if ever there was one. Then there’s Schuyler Tenney--perhaps you know who he is--he’s a big hardware merchant here; and with him in the swindle was--Good heavens! Why, I never thought of it before!” Reuben had stopped short in his surprise. He began whipping the horses now with a seeming air of exultation, and stole a momentary smile-lit glance toward his companion. “It’s just occurred to me,” he said. “Curious--I hadn’t given it a thought. Why, my girl, it’s like a special providence. You, too, will have your full revenge--such revenge as you never dreamt of. The third man is Horace Boyce!” A great wave of cold stupor engulfed the girl’s reason as she took in these words, and her head swam and roared as if in truth she had been plunged headlong into unknown depths of icy water. When she came to the surface of consciousness again, the horses were still rhythmically racing along the hill-side road overlooking the village. The firelight in the sky had faded down now to a dull pinkish effect like the northern lights. Reuben was chewing an unlighted cigar, and the ’squire was steadily snoring behind them. It had begun to snow. “You will send them all to prison--surely?” she was able to ask. “As surely as God made little apples!” was the sententious response.