“Because, like so many other fortunate speculators, he continued to speculate and became unfortunate.  He lost the bulk of his winnings in the stock market and—­well, to be quite frank, Captain Hall has been a broken man, mentally as well as physically, since his wife’s death and his own serious illness.  You, yourselves, must have noticed the change in his habits.  From being an active man, a man of affairs, he became almost a hermit.  He saw but few people, dropped the society of all his old friends, and lived alone—­alone except for his various housekeepers and Mary-’Gusta—­the little girl, I mean.  You must have noticed the change in his relations with you.”

Mr. Hamilton sighed.  “Yes,” he said, “we noticed he never came to see us and—­and—­”

“And wasn’t over’n above sociable when we come to see him,” finished Captain Shadrach.  “Yes, we noticed that.  But I say, Judge, he must have had some money left.  What became of it?”

“Goodness knows!  He was a child, so far as money matters went, in his later years.  Very likely he frittered it away in more stock ventures; I know he bought a lot of good for nothing mining shares.  At any rate it has gone, all except a few thousands.  The house and land where he lived is mortgaged up to the handle, and I imagine there are debts, a good many of them.  But whatever there is is left to Mary-’Gusta—­everyone calls her that and I seem to have caught the habit.  It is left to her—­in trust.”

Captain Shadrach thought this over.  “In trust with you, I presume likely,” he observed.  “Well, as I said afore, he couldn’t have found a better man.”

“He thought he could, two better men.  I rather think he was right.  You are the two, gentlemen.”

This statement did not have the effect which the Judge expected.  He expected exclamations and protests.  Instead his visitors looked at each other and at him in a puzzled fashion.

“Er—­er—­what was that?” queried Mr. Hamilton.  “I didn’t exactly seem to catch that, somehow or ’nother.”

Judge Baxter turned to the Captain.

“You understood me, didn’t you, Captain Gould?” he asked.

Shadrach shook his head.

“Why—­why, no,” he stammered; “it didn’t seem to soak in, somehow.  Cal’late my head must have stopped goin’; maybe the shock I had a spell ago broke the mainspring.  All I seem to be real sartin of just now is that the Campbells are comin’.  What was it you said?”

“I said that Captain Marcellus Hall has left whatever property he owned, after his creditors are satisfied, to his stepdaughter.  He has left it in trust until she becomes of age.  And he asks you two to accept that trust and the care of the child.  Is that plain?”

It was plain and they understood.  But with understanding came, apparently, a species of paralysis of the vocal organs.  Zoeth turned pale and leaned back in his chair.  Shadrach’s mouth opened and closed several times, but he said nothing.