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head in a mysterious manner toward the silent village outside.

Abner knew that she was asking him if he would take part in the approaching murder. He hardly knew what to answer. He could not in loyalty to his gang admit anything in words. Neither could he possibly deny Nessie any question. So, staring at the girl, an idea for an explanatory evasion came to him. He drew the edge of his bandanna mask from his pocket, displayed it significantly, and thrust it back. As he did so he thought, "That's enough to show her I'm goin', but she couldn't swear before a grand jury what she saw. . . ." And Abner felt he had done exactly the right thing.

"How come you at home, Nessie?" he asked curiously.

"Mr. Baxter sent me. He said I better go home, there wouldn't be no trade." She paused, then added with a touch of horror: "All the stores are locked up!"

"Fuh God's sake!" echoed Abner in the same voice. He was shocked, thrown out of his bearings. The whole town was locked up! The affair had leaped beyond his reckoning. He had thought it merely a coup of the garage gang, but the business men of the village must be in it: Mr. Baxter, Mr. Bingham, Mr. Fuller. Abner never before had known these men to do anything beyond attending the meetings of their fraternal orders on lodge nights. He had looked upon them as human machines whom nothing stirred, nothing retarded; nothing broke their steady money-making gait. Other men might fight, gamble, mob, but these pillars of village society would do nothing unusual whatsoever. They were standardized automatons of small-town respectability, and now—these mechanical figures suddenly had come to life, had locked up their stores and gone out to kill a man!

A shiver went through the teamster. "Look here," he whispered, dry-mouthed, "I got to go—my Lord, I kain't stay here!" He was spurred by a feeling that it was unsafe to follow Tom Northcutt's instructions and await an appointed hour. Such an unprecedented occurrence might