of his in the robbery of John Stubbs, deceased, and Henry Brooks, at
Heavy Tree Hill, on the night of the 13th August, 1854.'"

The man looked up with a repulsive smile. "Who's the fool now, Cap'n?
What's become of your hold on the widder, now?"

"Write!" said Brooks fiercely.

The sound of a pen hurriedly scratching paper followed this first
outburst of the quiet Brooks.

"Sign it," said Brooks.

The man signed it.

"Now go," said Brooks, unlocking the door, "but remember, if you should
ever be inclined to revisit Santa Ana, you will find ME living here
also."

The man slunk out of the door and into the passage like a wild animal
returning to the night and darkness. Brooks took up the paper, rejoined
Mrs. Wade in the parlor, and laid it before her.

"But," said the widow, trembling even in her joy, "do you--do you think
he was REALLY mistaken?"

"Positive," said Brooks coolly. "It's true, it's a mistake that has cost
you a hundred dollars, but there are some mistakes that are worth that
to be kept quiet."