"No accident?" replied Demorest, raising himself on his elbow.

"Nary accident," continued Ezekiel, deliberately, "and, if it comes to
that, not much of a dead body either."

"What the devil do you mean?" said Demorest, sitting up.

"I mean," said Ezekiel, with momentous deliberation, "that E. Blandford,
of the Winnipeg Mills, was in March, '50, ez nigh bein' bust up ez any
man kin be without actually failin'; that he'd been down to Boston that
day to get some extensions; that old Deacon Salisbury knew it, and had
been pesterin' Mrs. Blandford to induce him to sell out and leave the
place; and that the night he left he took about two hundred and fifty
dollars in bank bills that they allus kept in the house, and Mrs.
Blandford was in the habit o' hidin' in the breast-pocket of one of his
old overcoats hangin' up in the closet. I mean that that air money and
that air overcoat went off with him, ez Mrs. Blandford knows, for I
heard her tell her ma about it. And when his affairs were wound up and
his debts paid, I reckon that the two hundred and fifty was all there
was left--and he scooted with it. It's orkard for you--ez I said
afore--but I don't see wot on earth you need get riled for. Ef he ran
off on account of only two hundred and fifty dollars he ain't goin'
to run back again for the mere matter o' your marrying Joan. Ef he
had--he'd a done it afore this. It's orkard ez I said--but the only
orkardness is your feelin's. I reckon Joan's got used to hers."

Demorest had risen angrily to his feet. But the next moment the utter
impossibility of reaching this man's hidebound moral perception by even
physical force hopelessly overcame him. It would only impress him with