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 He again had been looking at the white gate. The horse was fidgeting. "The fact is, that—I—well, after all, I'd rather not help to make a stir in town, if you don't wish it."

"Eh? What's that, sir?" asked Mr. Banger, turning on the threshold of the summer-house. "I not wish to make a stir? I do! Pray don't hesitate. I need you, certainly! These lads' confessions—"

"Of course, of course! I'll join you in a moment, then. I left my horse yonder. I'll drive him around the corner to the front." He addressed himself nervously, menacingly, to Philip: "Are you going with the landlord? Don't take all day about it. You are at his mercy."

Now, with this impudent demand an idea must have struck him, or else it had been suggesting itself within a half minute (Philip never has decided this point).

"Take Peters with you," he said, in a quick, low voice to the landlord; "he may bolt. I'll bring the little fellow around in my buggy."

But Gerald overheard.

"No, no, no!" he cried in fear, defiance, and resistance. "I will not go with him!