" Softly as the word came, it seemed to infuriate him.
Seizing her by the arm, he was about to launch against her the
whole weight of his aroused nature, when she said simply: "He is a
common bill-poster. I took pains to find this out. I was as
interested as you could be to discover the author of such an
outrage."
"A bill-poster?"
"Yes, Judge Ostrander."
"What is his name?"
"I do not know. I only know that he is resolved upon making you
trouble. It was he who incited this riot. He did it by circulating
anonymous missives and by--forgive me for telling you this--
affixing scrawls of the same ambiguous character on fences and on
walls, and even on--on--" (Here terror tied her tongue, for his
hand had closed about her arm in a forceful grip, and the fire in
the eye holding hers was a consuming one) "the rails--of--of
BRIDGES."
"Ah!"
The cry was involuntary, but not so the steady settling of the
lips which followed it and the determined poise of his body as he
waited for her next word.
"Miss Weeks, the little lady opposite, saw the latter and tore it
off. But the mischief had already spread. Oh, strike me! Send me
from your house!"
He gave no token of hearing her.
"Why is this man my enemy?" he asked. "I do not know any such
person as you describe."
"Nor I," she answered more quietly.
"A bill-poster! Well, he has done his worst. I shall think no more
about him." And the burning eye grew mild and the working lip calm
again, with a determination too devoid of sarcasm to be false.
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