“Well, sir, at those careless words of mine he gives a guilty start, his face blanched with horror, and he hissed through his set teeth, ’Which one?’—­as quick as that.

“Me?—­I couldn’t git out a word for a minute, and he started for me.  ‘Which one?’ he repeats, hoarse with rage, and that gives me an idee.  ‘Stand back!’ I cried fearlessly, ’stand back, coward that you are—­make no word of outcry, or it will go hard with you—­they’re both comin’,’ I says,—­’this one’s comin’ next week and the other one’s comin’ the week after, soon as she can git some sewin’ done up.’ Me?—­I was leadin’ him on, you understand—­for we hadn’t knowed there was more than one.  Well, at that he read the piece over and set down in his chair with both hands up to his head and he says, ‘I’m bein’ hounded by a venal press, that’s what’s the matter; I’m bein’ hounded from pillar to post.’

“At this I broke in with a sneer,—­’Oh, we’ve only just began,’ I says.  ’We’ll have the whole lot of ’em here inside of six weeks—­children and all.’  ‘It’s a lie,’ he hissed at me.  ‘There ain’t any more.’

“‘Have a care, Colonel Potts,’ I exclaimed, ’or first thing you know you will rue those there words bitterly!  I will not brook your dastardly insults,’ I says, ‘and besides,’ I added with a sudden idee, ’it looks like two wives will warm things up plenty for you.’

“At them words his craven face turned an ashen gray, and he fastened upon me a glare of baffled rage that might well have made a stouter heart quail before it, but I returned his glare fearlessly and backed swif’ly to the door, feelin’ for the knob.  When I found it, I got quickly out, without a blow bein’ struck or a shot fired.  Then I run here.”

Early in the narrative Solon had begun to beam, identifying readily the slender but important vertebrae of fact upon which Billy had organized this drama of his fancy.  At the close he shook hands warmly with our hero.

“This has been a splendid day’s work, William Durgin!” and Billy beamed in his turn.

“I wasn’t goin’ to let him know we thought there was only one,” he said.

“Precisely where your training showed, my boy.  Any one could have handed Potts that proof, but it took you to handle the case after the scoundrel had said ‘Which one?’ Well, it’s Potts’s move now.  If he doesn’t move, we’ll just add this to the item:  ’Mrs. J. Rodney Potts, wife of Colonel J. Rodney Potts, will arrive again the following week.  The ladies anticipate an interesting time in meeting their mutual husband.’  How’s that?”

Billy’s eyes glistened—­he was yearning for just that situation.

“But if Potts does move,” added Solon, “not a word about the second lady.  We won’t take a mean advantage, even of Potts.”

At six o’clock that evening, the following facts became known:  that Colonel Potts had obtained a quart of whiskey from Barney Skeyhan; that he had borrowed twenty dollars from the same trustful tradesman; that, his cane in one hand and his oilcloth valise in the other, he had walked down Main Street late in the afternoon and boarded the five twenty-eight freight going West, ostensibly on a business trip into the next county.