Starr.
"And then?" inquired Mr. Breslin.
"Brentano told me I must go. He fixed everything. I have been on
the island ten years," and the hermit sighed heavily.
"How did you live?" asked the banker.
"He fixed that," and there was bitterness in his tone. "He brought
me letters regularly. These were alleged to come from those who
would prosecute me if I did not keep on paying money!"
At this statement the banker dashed up from his seat. "The
scoundrel!" he almost hissed. "He ought to be jailed! If I had him
here I'd do it too. I'm mayor of this borough."
"Oh, Mr. Breslin!" exclaimed Laurel. "He must not have been
entirely bad. See how he saved the papers--the proofs--and how he
kept for me my mother's jewels."
"That's the sentimental mire that foreign criminals wallow in," he
replied with irony. "I cannot see that it mitigates the crime."
"And yet," interrupted Mr. Starr, "see how the influence of a mere
girl turned him to right? I did like that boy!"
Cora and Laurel had crept away to the far end of the porch. Two men
came up the path.
"Hello!" said Mr. Breslin. "Officers!"
There was surprise on the officers' faces when they saw Mr. Breslin,
their superior officer, the mayor of Cedar Lake, sitting on the
porch. Greetings were exchanged and finally they ventured to make
known their mission.
They had heard that someone saw Cora Kimball take the state's
evidence--the can of "red paint!"
"But what was a can of paint?" asked the mayor.
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