odd, quaint characters.  Where can I find them?’ ‘Well,’ said I, ’I think I should try the Inn, if I were you.  There are funnier characters there than anywhere else I know.’  Of course, I knew she was at the Inn herself, but that didn’t make it any the less true. . . .  There!  I’ve preached my sermon.  Now, Mr. Cabot, we’ll go into the sittin’ room and let Primmie clear off the table.  Zach Bloomer—­he’s the assistant light keeper—­is comin’ to tell us when it’s time to go to the seance.”

In the sitting room they talked of various things.  Galusha, listening to his cousin’s stories and jokes, had almost forgotten his powder barrel.  And then, all at once, a spark fell, flashed, and the danger became imminent.

Said the banker, addressing Martha and referring to her lodger:  “What does this cousin of mine find to do down here, Miss Phipps?  How does he manage to spend so much money?”

“Money?” repeated Martha.  “He—­spend money?  Why, I didn’t know that he did, Mr. Cabot.  He is very prompt in paying his board.  Perhaps I charge him too much.  Is that what you mean?”

“I guess not.  He hasn’t paid you thirteen thousand dollars for board, has he?”

“Thirteen thousand dollars!  Well, I guess not—­scarcely.  What are you talkin’ about, Mr. Cabot?  What is the joke?”

“I don’t know.  That’s one of the things which, now that I am down here, I should like to find out.  Somehow or other, since he has been on the Cape, he has managed to get rid of over thirteen thousand dollars.  He says he has given it to some of his mummy-hunting friends, but I am rather suspicious.  He hasn’t been organizing a clam trust, has he, Miss Phipps?”

Plainly, Martha did not know what to make of this speech.  It was a joke, of course, but just where the point of the joke was located she was not sure.  To her, thirteen thousand dollars was an enormous sum.  The idea that her lodger, gentle, retiring little Galusha Bangs, possessed a half of that fortune was a joke in itself.  But . . .  And then she saw Galusha’s face and the expression upon it.

“Why—­why, Mr. Bangs!” she exclaimed.

Cabot turned and he, too, saw the expression.  He burst out laughing.

“See!” he cried.  “Doesn’t he look guilty?  It is a clam trust, Miss Phipps.  By Jove, Loosh, you are discovered!  Galusha Bangs, the Clam King!  Ha, ha, ha!  Look at him, Miss Phipps!  Look at him!  Did you ever see a plainer case of conscious guilt?  Ha, ha!”

He was enjoying himself hugely.  And really Galusha was a humorous spectacle.  He was very red in the face, he was trembling, and he appeared to be struggling for words and finding none.

“I—­I insist,” he stammered.  “I—­I mean I protest.  It is ridiculous—­ah—­ah—­absurd!  I—­I—­”

His cousin broke in upon him.  “Ha, ha!” he cried.  “The secret is out.  And you gave me to understand the mummy-hunters had it.  Oh, Galusha!”