CHAPTER XI
BILLY ANSWERS
Outside, the two men found several others formerly employed by Martin and Hull ruefully inspecting the ruins.
These Mr. Browning questioned circumspectly but could gather no information that might substantiate the theory that Billy Dobson had started the fire.
Finally when they had just about given up hope of finding anything there, one man came up and of his own accord volunteered the information they had been looking for.
“Beg pardon, Mr. Hull,” the fellow said, touching his cap, “but it’s been on my mind to tell you something ever since the fire happened.”
“All right, Higgins. Speak out,” said Mr. Hull, trying not to show too great an interest.
“It’s only this. I was coming home pretty late—I’d been to the doctor’s to get him for my little girl who is very sick, as you can find out to be the truth by inquiring—and on my way I had to pass the place. I saw some one sort of hangin’ around the buildings and I got curious.”
“Yes, go on!” cried his two listeners together.
“Well, gentlemen, I came a little closer and I could easy see who the feller was. It was Dobson, Mr. Hull, the feller who clerks over at Mason’s store.”
A glance passed between Mr. Browning and Mr. Hull.
Then the latter said calmly:
“You’re sure you couldn’t have been mistaken, Higgins?”
“I’m so sure,” the man returned, “that I’d be willin’ to stake my chances of a long and happy life on it. No, sir, there ain’t no mistake about it, Mr. Hull. I made sure of my man!”
A crowd had gathered about the three men and listened curiously to the conversation. Rapidly, as news always spreads in a crowd, the word passed from mouth to mouth that Billy Dobson was suspected of starting the fire.
There was a great amount of excitement, for in Greenville Billy Dobson was a favorite. Everybody liked him and a great many people believed in him. Still, there was, of course, always the possibility of his being guilty.
Mr. Hull thanked the man Higgins and dismissed him. By a common impulse Mr. Browning and his companion turned their steps in the direction of Mason’s grocery store.
Some of the crowd followed, eager, curious, some convinced already of the guilt of Billy Dobson, some stubbornly incredulous.
On the outskirts of this crowd came Betty, not of it, but with it in spirit. She had caught enough of the rumor to know that it was Billy Dobson who was suspected, and Betty was in a mood just then to condemn almost any one.
It happened that as this crowd reached the corner upon which Mason’s grocery store was situated Jane also reached it, coming from a different direction.
Jane had been sent to the store for butter and eggs. Her mind was still preoccupied with what they should do now that Mr. Powell was incapacitated, and in this anxiety she had temporarily forgotten the fire that had wiped out Martin and Hull’s.
Now she was shocked rudely from her unhappy reverie by sight of the crowd. She saw Betty Browning on the edge of it, and her color flamed high.
What did it all mean? That excited crowd! Betty Browning with the white face and strained expression, so unlike the girl that Jane remembered!
She guessed instantly that this strange sight had some bearing on the calamity of the night before, but she had no way of knowing the actual cause.
The crowd turned in at Mason’s store. So did Jane—a little in the rear of it.
Billy Dobson was behind the counter waiting upon Mad Marion with all the kindness and deference he would have given to one of the richest patrons from Rose Hill.
Mr. Mason himself was in the rear of the store, stacking up fresh groceries on the immaculate shelves.
Both men looked surprised as the crowd entered the store and Marion turned, bobbing and smiling delightedly at something that promised excitement.
Mr. Browning wasted no time. With Mr. Hull at his elbow he went direct to the counter and himself addressed Billy Dobson. His eyes were keen and cold as they rested on the frank blue eyes of the lad.
“Were you in the vicinity of Martin and Hull’s before the fire last night?” he asked.
Jane had pushed her way through the crowd until she was close enough to hear the question distinctly. She was so close to Betty that she could hear the girl’s quick, indrawn breath as she waited for the answer.
Jane’s eyes were fixed with a frightened look on Billy. What did it all mean?
Billy looked surprised for a moment at the question.
“Why, yes, sir,” he said then, his eyes unwavering. “I believe I was. In fact, I know I passed there last night.”
A sigh arose from the crowd, a queer sound that was almost like an accusation.
Jane felt her heart beat fast. She did not yet fully understand, but she did realize instinctively that Billy was in danger of some sort—Billy who had been kind to her, who had stood as her friend from the very first day in Greenville.
Mr. Hull spoke now. Something of the dull hopelessness of his manner had gone and been replaced by anger.
“Will you kindly explain then,” he said, “what you were doing there after twelve o’clock last night—it was that late, was it not?” he interrupted himself to ask.
“Fully that,” said Billy, his gaze unflinching. “I should say nearer half-past twelve.”
“Better be a little careful what you say, Billy,” cautioned Mr. Mason, with an impulse of true friendliness toward the young man. “Don’t talk too fast, lad. Better keep a guard on your tongue.”
“I have no reason to keep a guard on my tongue,” Billy retorted quietly. “Now, Mr. Hull, if you have any more questions to ask me——”
“I have several,” said Mr. Hull dryly.
Mr. Browning’s keen, searching gaze never once left the lad’s face.
“The most important among them is,” Mr. Hull proceeded, “What were you doing skulking about my place at a time that was nearer half-past twelve than twelve o’clock last night?”
“I object to the word ‘skulking’,” Billy returned furiously. Jane clenched her hands. She was proud of him. “If you will take that back, I’ll answer your question—not otherwise!”
Mr. Hull was plainly annoyed. The crowd was growing restive. Betty, close to Jane, gave an impatient shrug of her shoulders. Her pretty mouth was set in a straight line.
Only Mr. Browning betrayed a slight change in his distrustful attitude toward Billy Dobson. Jane thought she detected a faint gleam of admiration in his eyes.
“All right, cut it out, then,” said Hull, snapping angrily at the words. “Only answer my question. What were you doing near my place late last night—just before the fire started?”
Again there was a murmur from the crowd. Billy’s glance swept it wonderingly before he answered.
“I often walk for miles at night,” he said quietly. “It’s been a habit with me for a long time, because that is when I get my good ideas.”
There was a titter in the crowd. Some one laughed outright. Another cried jeeringly:
“That’s a fine line, that is!”
“My lad, you’ll get nowhere with an explanation like that,” Mr. Hull stated. But Mr. Browning cut him short, with a gesture. He turned to Billy, his gaze never leaving the clerk’s face.
“What ideas do you mean?” he asked, not unkindly.
For the first time Billy’s glance wavered. When he spoke his tone was almost sullen.
“You’ll laugh,” he said. “Everybody laughs. But since I see it’s important for me to tell the truth right now——”
“Very important!” broke in the grain dealer dryly.
“I’ll give you a chance to laugh,” finished Billy, looking not at Mr. Hull but at Mr. Browning. “I’ve invented a couple of things that I think are pretty good, and I’ve got the ideas for them when I’ve been walking about at night. Now,” bitterly as the titter spread through the crowd, “go ahead and laugh. Have a good one on me!”
Mr. Browning said nothing. He was looking very thoughtful. Hull was irate.
“A pretty explanation that is!” he said. “I don’t mind telling you, my boy, that it would stand about two half-seconds in a court of law. Now suppose you tell me the real reason. And be quick about it. I’m getting impatient!”
Billy gripped the edge of the counter and leaned forward.
“I’ve told you the truth of how I happened to pass your place last night,” he said. “Though why I should have to answer your questions, I don’t know—and I don’t care. If you don’t believe what I’ve told you, then you know what you can do, don’t you?”
“I know what I will do,” said the irate grain dealer, shaking his finger under Billy’s nose. “I’ll put you in jail!”
“But before you do it,” Billy’s voice was still calm but there was a glint in his eye, “I’d be obliged if you’d tell me just what I’m accused of!”
“I’ll tell you what you’re accused of!” Mr. Hull was shaking with wrath, and he went on, though Mr. Browning tried vainly to stop him. “You’re accused of deliberately setting fire to my property last night in revenge for my having refused you a loan! That is what you are accused of! Now, deny it, if you dare!”