It's mighty down-settin' on one's pride, which I had a heap of afore I
was sent to abide there."
"Who are you and what are you driving at?"
Mrs. Scarlet asked the question with a puzzled stare. She was
possessed of a very suspicious nature, and she was not ready to accept
a person on outward appearance alone.
"I'm William Sugg, from Missoury," the old man answered promptly. "I
came all the way to Shecargo to see the aunt of a friend. Mebbe you'll
understand when I tell you, that Martin Skidway was one of the best
friends an old man like me had in the bastile."
The name of her nephew opened the way to Madge Scarlet's heart at
once.
She questioned Mr. Sugg about the young man, and he answered her with
the assurance that they had been inmates of the same prison, and that
Martin was losing flesh rapidly from melancholy.
"It's the doings of that devil, Dyke Darrel," cried Mrs. Scarlet,
losing her temper at thought of her troubles.
"I've kind o' thought, bein' as I was in Shecargy, I'd look up a
boardin' place and stay a spell. I've heerd that you have rooms to
rent?"
"I have, to the right ones."
"Will you show me some?"
"Certainly."
Mrs. Scarlet rose and lifted a lamp from the table.
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