Time wore on. Kent was determined to find out the meaning of the words spoken by the young man in the solitude of his chamber when he thought no one was near him.

The young man had not said but [a] few words to anyone, and it was the universal comment with all the inhabitants of Brookland that the young man was a quiet lunatic—the effects of the severe wounds he had received had disordered his brain. This was a comment; the Reader must not think it anything else. Was he a quiet lunatic? We shall see in the course of time.

“William, can you tell me something about your adventures in the West?” queried Kent one fine morning in the latter part of July, as he sat in the invalid’s room. Kent had always doubted the young man’s identity, so he asked the question as a test.

“Out West? Have I been out West?” said William vaguely.

“Yes, out West. How did you get along out there?” replied and answered Kent in the same voice. The invalid smiled as he said:

“Oh yes, I remember now. I got along very well out there. And then I took a notion to come home, and I got robbed in Ash Hollow—I don’t know how I got here.”

“You haven’t given any details at all,” said Kent. “How came you in Ash Hollow? That wasn’t like coming home.”

“I have a very bad headache this morning—I don’t feel like talking—I will tell you some other time,” stammered the young man confusedly and with well-affected feeling. He laid [sic] down on a lounge that was in the room at his service. Kent was more determined than ever to eavesdrop [on] the young man and find out more than what he knew at that time. Accordingly, he went out of the room and made his way to another room adjoining the one the young man was in.

The wall—the partition between the two rooms—was made of pine plank, so Kent could hear the least whisper (as it was) in the next room. He looked around in the room, and to his great joy he saw a small hole in the partition where a knot had fallen out—It was a small hole, but it suited his purpose to a T.

He crept to the hole as noiselessly as a cat. The hole was right behind the lounge on which the young man lay.

Kent took a chair and seated himself near the hole and waited patiently to hear what the young man had to say.

He had not long to wait, for the young man soon began talking to himself:

“I ain’t telling that man anything,” said the young man. “He wants to find out something about my travels—well, It would not do for me to tell him anything—he seems to be a suspicious old scrub anyway—I am William Reed, I am. Ha! Ha! Ha!”

Kent was drinking in every word the invalid said, and the invalid’s words incited him to find out more.

“Well, my doubts are turning in the way I wish them to turn—they are turning to be well-authenticated facts,” thought Kent, as he smiled satisfactorily: “I’ll nip the flower in the bud,” added he. He didn’t hear the young man say any more so he went downstairs, and from the house, he went to the mill. He found Sowers sitting in his office. Sowers gave him a black look as he entered the office, but Kent did not mind that.

“Kent, I want you to go away, for you are doing no good whatever,” was [sic] Sowers’ first words. Kent didn’t look a bit surprised at the information.

“I know you want me to go, but I am not going until I see those you have wronged— righted. Do you hear that?” said Kent. Sowers’ face blanched as he heard the words—they sounded like a death warrant to him.

“I have wronged no one. So you needn’t trouble yourself,” said Sowers bravely. “But you must leave here immediately. I won’t have you on the place, you impudent scoundrel!” added Sowers commandingly.

“I ain’t going anywhere at all until I accomplish what I came here to accomplish,” asserted Kent cooly. “And mind how you talk, Sowers—remember, I am an officer of the law, and I can have you severely dealt with if you attempt to drive me away.”

“Get out from here, or I’ll set the dogs on you, you confounded scoundrel!” said Sowers, exasperated with rage at Kent’s cool words and bold demeanor.

“Just hold yourself in a man’s place now, Sowers. It will be best for you—for if you get me mad, I will bring things to a crisis at once—I know a thing or two, if you don’t keep quiet,” said Kent complacently.

Sowers paled still more, if it was possible. “Well, Kent, my words were a little hasty and I beg pardon for saying them—I trust we will be a[s] good friends as ever.”

“I am willing, I am sure, Mr. Sowers—I grant you pardon for your hasty words,” asserted Kent readily as he rose to go out. He started off toward Mrs. Barton’s residence. As he walked along, he muttered:

“Ah, my friend Sowers, I will have you all right in a few days—or months.”

He went to Mrs. Barton’s door and tapped. She told him to walk right in—for he was a frequent visitor at the Bartons’.

“How do I find you today, madam?” said Kent as he walked into the room.

“Quite well, I thank you, sir, how are you?” said the lady smilingly.

“I am well, thank you—well, isn’t this warm weather?” inquired Kent.

“It is indeed, sir—I think the heat has been very excessive for the last two or three days,” answered the lady. “How is your patient today, Mr. Kent?” inquired the lady, after a short pause.

“Well, he is pretty bad off yet,” answered Kent. “Or, at least, he says he is very weak yet, and he’s playing off this morning—he says he has a very bad headache and has lain down.”

“Do you think he is playing of[f], Mr. Kent?”

“I know he is, for he didn’t say anything about his headache until I began talking to him about his adventure out West.”

“Don’t you know, Mr. Kent, I have never believed yet that that is my William?”

“I don’t know hardly what to think—but I know he is not your William.”

“Well, I always called him my William because he was so kind to me and acted like a son to me—he would obey me in all things, Mr. Kent.”

“If this young man’s wound would make haste and heal up, we could identify him.”

“Oh, I guess he is William—I think we are prejudiced to our belief, for no one else doubts his identity—no one but us.”

“That is so,” said Kent, “but still I don’t believe he is William Reed.”

“We will not bother ourselves with that question, but how are you and Sowers getting along?” answered and inquired Mrs. Barton.

“He drove me away this morning, but somehow or other I am not going until I get ready, for I must have some fun before I leave the ‘Sic Semper Tyrannis’ state.”

“From what you told me, there will be considerable fun before the first of October.”

“Mark my words, Mrs. Barton, there will be more fun then than you imagine,” asserted Kent meaningly. “Every one of you will be surprised—some will be made happy—others will be made miserable.”

“I’ll be glad when the day comes, Mr. Kent. Make it come as quick as possible, for perhaps I may be one that may be made happy,” said Mrs. Barton.

“Perhaps you will and perhaps you won’t, Mrs. Barton. I won’t say who will be made happy, but I will name one that will be made miserable—very miserable for a while. It will be Joshua Sowers.”

“I am willing to wait until the time comes, be it ever so long off,” asserted Mrs. Barton. “How are you going to arrange it so as to get all the parties concerned in it together?”

“I will fix all at the appointed time. I have not fixed any definite plans yet,” answered Kent as he rose to take his leave.

“Well, Mrs. Barton, I will bid you good morning,” said Kent.

“Good morning, sir. You must call again soon, for your company is always agreeable,” smilingly asserted the lady.

Kent took a little reconnaissance before going to the house. He went to the stable and got into the haymow. Presently Wilse Reed came in the stable and fed his horses. By the time Wilse had fed his horses and watered them, Sowers came in, and taking a seat on one of the feed boxes, he accosted Wilse as follows:

“Wilse, did you tell the detective anything about me? If you did, I’ll shoot you at once!”

“Shoot me then if you want to. I don’t care for your neck, you old puppy. You are nothing but a desperado anyway.”

“That is not the question—I asked you if you had told Kent anything about me.”

“I decline answering your question,” said Wilse. “And you can shoot me as soon as you like. I ain’t bothered a bit by your threats.”

“I’ll carry my threats out, so don’t fool with me, Wilse, for you know how hasty I am.”

“Be hasty and be d—d,” said Wilse hotly.

“You are an impudent scoundrel, I’ll declare—well, I will ask you kindly, did you tell Kent anything about me?”

“No sir, I did not—he nor anyone else.”

“Why, you told me you were going to expose me and all this and that—and now, since I have defied you, you won’t tell anyone. Why don’t you tell someone, Wilse? Oh, you are afraid of getting yourself in trouble, eh?”

“I will tell soon enough to bring you down as low as a dog, you old soft sardine. I’ll put you through the furnace of degradation.”

“Ha! Ha! Ha! You’ll put me through the furnace of degradation. Why, such words from you are disgusting, you old codger!” said Sowers contemptuously.

Kent was peeping over the log in front of him and looking down at Sowers and Wilse, laughing to the best advantage for the circumstances—for he could not laugh loud—he would be caught.

“I am getting Sowers nearer and nearer!” thought Kent. “I wish I could see in that office of his. I am certain he has some evidence in there of his guilt and treachery. He is an old coon,^[1] he is an old fox. Gentlemen, he knows his business,” muttered Kent as if he were talking to someone beside himself.

Sowers left the stable—so did Wilse.

Thus giving Kent a good chance to make his exit; he made his exit in a hurry, for he had to avail himself of the chance to escape before Wilse came back.

Kent went in the stable and got out his horse to take a ride.

He took a ride around through the country and then went to town and came out with the doctor. The time flew fast, and before the inhabitants of Brookland half realized it, the month of August had nearly slipped away. The young man was still an invalid, and they were preparing to take him to the Springs.

In one week more they were to start. They did not dream of the thrilling that was to happen in their midst before they left Brookland.