“That’s a lie.”

“No, it’s the truth.  I have copies of your letters and the Government has the originals.  They are not very dangerous, but that is because you are not big enough to be dangerous.  The authorities have left you pretty much to my discretion, sir.  It rests with me whether to have you taken in charge and held for trial or merely to warn you and watch you.  Very well.  I warn you now and you may be certain that you are watched.  You’ll stop your silly, seditious talk at once and you’ll write no more letters like those I have seen.  If you do it will be a prison term for you as sure as I stand here.  Do you understand?”

Apparently Phineas understood.  His face was not as red as it had been and there was a different look in his eye.  Jed’s rough handling had not frightened him, but the Major’s cold, incisive tones and the threat of a term in prison had their effect.  Nevertheless he could still bluster.

“You can’t talk to me that way,” he sputtered.  “I—­I ain’t scared of you even if you are all dressed up in fuss and feathers like a hand-organ monkey.  This is a free country.”

“Yes, it is.  For decent people it is absolutely free.  The other sort have to be put where they can’t interfere with that freedom.  Whether you, Babbit, remain free or not depends entirely upon what you do—­and say.  Is this perfectly clear?”

Phineas did not answer the question directly.  For a moment he stood there, his fists clenching and unclenching, and his eyes snapping.  Then he turned away.

“All right,” he said, sullenly.  “I hear what you say.  Now I can go, I presume likely—­unless you’ve got some more lyin’ and bullyin’ to do.  Get out of my way, Shavin’s, you fool.”

But Grover had not finished with him.

“Just a minute,” he said.  “There is one thing more.  I don’t know what it is, and I don’t wish to know, but evidently you have been saying, or threatening to say, something concerning this lady, Mrs. Armstrong, which should not be said.  You are not to mention her name.  Do you understand that?”

The little hardware dealer almost jumped from the floor as his rage again got the better of him.

“The blazes I ain’t!” he shrieked.  “Who says I ain’t?  Is that any of your business, Mr.—­Mr. Brass Monkey?  What’s you or the United States gov’ment got to say about my mentionin’ names?  To the devil with the United States and you, too!  You hear that?”

Major Grover smiled.  “Yes,” he said, quietly.  “I hear it.  So does Mr. Winslow here, and Mrs. Armstrong.  They can be called as witnesses if it is necessary.  You had better let me finish, Babbitt.  As I say, you are not to mention Mrs. Armstrong’s name, you are not to repeat or circulate any scandal or story reflecting upon her character—­”

“Or her brother’s either,” put in Jed, eagerly.  “Tell him he can’t talk against Charlie, either.”