“Well, I’m pretty near to the end, although it may not seem that way.  For the first few months all hands were talkin’ about what great things the Wellmouth Development Company was goin’ to do.  Then Judge Seaver gave ’em somethin’ else to talk about.  He shot himself one night, and they found him dead and all alone in the sittin’ room of his big house.  And when they came to look over his papers and affairs they found that, instead of bein’ rich, he hadn’t a cent in the world.  He had lost all his own money gamblin’ in stocks, and, not only that, but he’d lost all that other folks had given him to take care of.  He was treasurer of the Eagle Fish Freezin’ Company and he’d stolen there until that company had to fail.  And, bein’ secretary and treasurer of the Wellmouth Development Company, he had sent the fifty thousand its stockholders paid in after the rest of his stealin’s.  All there was left of that new Development Company was the land over here by Skoonic Creek.  He couldn’t steal that very well, although, when you think of the stealin’ he did do, it’s a wonder he hadn’t tried to carry it off by the wheelbarrow load.

“It isn’t worth while my tellin’ you all the hullabaloo that came after the smash.  It would take too long and I don’t know the ins and outs of it, anyway.  But the way it stands now is this:  The Eagle Fish Freezin’ Company is out of business.  Their factory is run now by another concern altogether.  The Wellmouth Development Company is still alive—­at least it’s supposed to be, but nobody but a doctor could tell it wasn’t dead.  The Denboro Trust Company has the Eagle Company’s twelve hundred shares—­I don’t know how it got ’em; a long snarled-up tangle of loans, and security for loans, and I don’t know what—­and the rest of us have got ours.  All that’s back of those shares—­all that the Development Company owns—­ is that Skoonic Creek property and that is goin’ to be worth a lot some day—­maybe.  But I guess likely the some day will be a long, long time after my day.  There, Mr. Bangs, that’s the story of the Wellmouth Development Company.  And I presume likely you’re wonderin’ why I tell it to you.”

Galusha, who had been faithfully endeavoring to grasp the details of his hostess’ narrative, passed a hand in bewildered fashion across his forehead.  He murmured that the story was—­ah—­very interesting, very interesting indeed—­yes.  Martha smiled faintly.

“I’m glad you think so,” she said.  “It is interestin’ enough to some of us here in Wellmouth, those of us who have our money tied up in it, but I shouldn’t think a stranger would find much in it to amuse him.  But, you see, Mr. Bangs, I didn’t tell it to amuse you.  I told it because—­because—­well, because, I—­I wondered if in any way you knew, or could find out, how I could sell my two hundred and fifty shares.  You see, I—­I’ve got to sell ’em.  At least, I’ve got to get more money somehow or—­or give up this house.  And I can’t tell you what it would mean to me to do that.”