CHAPTER XIX.
THE MEETING IN THE COTTAGE.
For the moment, after he had seen the strange and unexpected meeting between Andy Gresson and his wife, Franklin stood perfectly still in the darkness outside of the dilapidated cottage.
"Andy Gresson!" he murmured to himself. "And I fancied he was miles away! What can have brought him back to his home to-night?"
No doubt there was an earnest talking going on within the walls of that humble home, but what was being said did not reach the young electrician's ears. He watched the light in the kitchen and saw it turned down very low, but it was not quite extinguished.
"I must find out what he intends to do by all means," thought Franklin. "If he leaves I must follow him, until I can summon a policeman and have him arrested." It will be hard upon his wife, but that can't be helped."
With cautious steps, and keeping out of the moonlight as much as possible, the young electrician approached the rear of the cottage. Here the curtain to the window beside the door, was only partly pulled down. The window was raised a few inches, and getting close to it, Franklin was able to see and hear all that took place.
"And you say you have been in Philadelphia since you left home, Andy?" Mrs. Gresson was questioning. "Why didn't you write to me?"
"I was afraid the police would learn where I was. The postman might show him the letter with the postmark on it."
"But what of that, so long as you are not guilty," cried Mrs. Gresson. "I think it a mistake to run away."
"Well, I did," returned Andy Gresson, surlily. "I wasn't going to go to state's prison for five or ten years."
"But how could they send you if you were not guilty, Andy? Could't you prove your innocence?"
"I guess not, Mary. Those lawyers have a way of fixing these things when they want to send a poor dog like me to jail. Besides that Bell boy is willing to swear he saw me at Mrs. Mace's that morning, and so is the cook."
"But you were not there, so you said before."
"Of course I wasn't there, Mary," growled Andy Gresson. "How many more times have I got to tell you that? You act just as if you didn't believe what I said."
To this the poor woman did not reply. But two tears coursed down her pale cheeks, which she hastily wiped away with the corner of her apron. Andy Gresson saw them and gave a sniff.
"What are you crying about now? Ain't you glad to see me?"
"Yes, Andy. But I would be better pleased if you would remain at home, and try to clear your name of this suspicion attached to it."
"Well, some day I will, but not now. Have you got anything good to eat in the house? I'm most starved to death."
"There is some cold meat in the closet, and I can give you some bread and butter, and hot tea."
"Ain't there anything to drink in the cellar? Seems to me I left some bottled beer there when I went away."
"No, you drank up all there was the morning you—you had the trouble and ran away."
"Well, then let me have the other, although I despise tea and always did. You ought to set a good table for your husband after he's been away so long."
"I cannot afford a good table, Andy. You left me without a cent, and I do not get as much sewing as I used to."
"Why not?"
"I do not know."
"Folks down on you because they chased me away I suppose," growled Silas Fells' former workman. "Then I suppose you ain't got much money on hand, either."
"Not a great deal," responded Mrs. Gresson, as she set the table and poured a cup of tea from the pot on the back of the stove.
"How much have you got?"
"I've only got ten dollars that I dare use," returned the woman, after some hesitation.
"Dare use? What do you mean? Have you got more?"
"I have that sixty dollars interest money on the mortgage. But I must pay that over to Mr. Brown next Wednesday."
"Humph! Why don't you let old Brown wait? He's rich enough."
"I would rather pay him, and then I will be sure of a roof over my head, at least for another year."
"Didn't they try to take the house from you after I was gone?"
"They couldn't do that, for the deed is in my name."
"Well, about this money. Where is it?"
"In the trunk upstairs. But, Andy, I hope you—you—"
"What," he asked, sourly.
"I hope you won't touch it. It was very hard to save that amount out of my earnings."
"I need money," returned Andy Gresson, recklessly. "A fellow can't travel around from place to place with nothing in his pocket."
"Why don't you settle down somewhere and go to work?"
"How can I when the detectives are on my track all the time? I guess I've got to quit the country before I'll be safe," he went on, as he attacked the articles of food on the table vigorously.
"I would give it all if you would only remain here and clear your name."
"Bah, Mary! I know my own business best. They are not going to jug Andy Gresson, not if he knows it. There is one thing I would like to do though."
"And what is that, Andy?"
"Choke the wind out of that young Bell! He came near having me arrested up at the Erie depot, in Newark, a few months ago."
"I always thought the Bells, nice folks," sighed Mrs. Gresson.
"The boy is no good," was Andy Gresson's comment, after several minutes of silence, during which he finished his brief meal. "There! now I feel better," he went on as he jumped up.
"What do you intend to do next?" asked his wife, in some anxiety.
"I came home to get a bit of money, and say good-bye, Mary. Let me have what you can spare."
"You may take the ten dollars," she returned, with a deep sigh. "I will try to get along without it."
"That's not enough. You keep the ten, and I'll take that sixty dollars in the trunk."
"Oh, Andy!"
"There! there! don't make any fuss about it! As soon as I'm settled down somewhere. I'll send it back, and more, too. In the meantime old Brown can wait."
"But he may not be willing to wait."
"He'll have to. Show me where the money is."
"No, no, Andy. Please do not—"
"Shut up, Mary, and give me the money!" he burst out brutally. "I have been here too long already. For all I know, the police are on my track even now."
The poor woman attempted to argue with her husband, but all to no purpose. Andy Gresson was determined to have the money that was up stairs, and at last caught her forcibly by the wrist.
"Now come with me, and give me that money, Mary!" he cried, in a low but intense tone.
"Let me go, Andy!" she cried in sudden terror. Her husband had never been quite so harsh before.
"I will—after I have the money. Haven't I a right to it if I want it? I'm your husband."
"Yes, but, Andy, what will I do? Mr. Brown may foreclose and put me out of the house."
"He won't if you talk to him right. Anyway, I'm going to have that money, and if you want to steer clear of trouble with me, you won't oppose me any longer."
Trembling from head to foot, the poor woman tried to reply. But the words would not come, and silently she opened the door which led to the inclosed staircase and began to mount the steps. Catching up the lamp from the table, Andy Gresson followed her.