Uncle Abner
"But not the desk, Abner. It was securely locked. I had that lock from Sheffield. No key would turn it but my own."
Byrd sat for some moments unmoving, his delicate hand fingering his chin, his lips parted. Then, as with an effort, he got back his genial manner.
"I thank you, Abner," he said. "You have saved my boat. And it was a strange coincidence that brought you there to do it."
Then he flung back in his big chair with a laugh.
"But your theory, Abner? This chance event does not support it. It is not the good or Christian that this coincidence has benefited. It is I, Abner, who am neither good nor Christian."
My uncle did not reply. His face remained set and reflective.
The rain beat on the window-pane, and the drunken feast went on in the room beyond him.
"Byrd," he said, "how do you think that fire was set? A half-burned cigar dropped by a careless hand, or an enemy?"
"An enemy, Abner," replied the man. "It will be the work of these damned settlers. Did not their envoy threaten if I should come in, to the peril of their cabins? I gave them no concern then, but I was wrong in that. I should have looked out for their venom. Still, they threaten with such ease and with no hand behind it that one comes, in time, to take no notice of their words."
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