Barbour turned the big envelope over.

“Yes, Mr. Bangs, surely,” he said, but he looked puzzled.  “What is it?”

Galusha blushed and stammered.  “Why—­why—­” he began; “I—­ah—­you see—­it is—­ah—­something of mine.”

“Something you wish me to take care of?” asked Barbour, still looking at the envelope.

His caller grasped at the straw.

“Yes—­yes, that is it,” he said, eagerly.  “Dear me, yes.  If you will be so kind.”

“Yes, indeed, Mr. Bangs.  No trouble at all.  I’ll put it—­”

But the little man stopped the sentence in the middle.

“If—­if you please,” he protested.  “Ah—­please don’t.  I don’t wish to know where you put it.  Really, I don’t, not in the least.  I very much prefer not to know where it is. . . .  Ah—­good-day, Mr. Barbour.  Thank you very much.”

The general opinion in the office of Cabot, Bancroft and Cabot concerning the senior partner’s queer cousin was strengthened by this visit.  The surmise that Galusha Bangs was a “nut” became a conviction.

But, for the “nut” himself, life during the coming weeks and months became a much less worrisome struggle.  Returning to East Wellmouth, for the second time laden with legal tender, he delivered his burden to Captain Jethro, who, in return, promised faithfully never to reveal a word concerning the sale of his Development stock or drop a hint which might help to locate its purchasers.

“Course I won’t say nothin’,” vowed the captain.  “I realize that business men don’t want their business talked about.  And if them Cabot, Bancroft and Cabot folks are tryin’ to buy in the stock, whether it’s for themselves or somebody else, they’ll want it kept dark.  No, I ain’t told a soul on this earth and I won’t tell one.  That is satisfactory, ain’t it?”

The shadow of a smile passed across Galusha’s face.  “Quite, quite,” he replied.  “Nothing could be more so unless—­”

“Well, unless what?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing.  Thank you—­ah—­thank you very much.”

It had occurred to him that, considering the light keeper’s peculiarities, the promise not to tell a soul on earth might be stretched to include those elsewhere; but he kept the thought to himself.  Captain Jethro did not press his question.  The shrewd old captain was so thoroughly delighted at having sold, and at the prophesied profit, his troublesome holdings in the Wellmouth Development Company, that his mood was neither combative nor inquisitive.

Galusha did not tell Miss Phipps of his business deal with the light keeper.  In the first place, his telling her would involve more deception and, also, might lead to more possibilities of discovery.  The average, well-meaning person, having been driven by relentless fate to the committing of murder, could scarcely have felt more conscience-stricken and depraved than did little Galusha Bangs at having lied to Martha