Dig Here!

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  We Seek Legal Advice

  "OH, Sandy, what luck that you took that picture!" Eve cried. "Shall wetake it to Michael right away or shall we wait till tomorrow andpresent it as evidence when the case comes up in court?" She lookeddoubtfully at Aunt Cal.

  As I had expected Aunt Cal said she couldn't have us poking around apolice court and it was finally decided that we should all take thenoon bus to Millport and see the lawyer whom Aunt Cal had visited onSaturday.

  "Gracious, I haven't been so excited in my whole life before!" Evesaid. "Oh, Sandy, if we can only save Michael, won't it be wonderful! Ican't decide what dress I'd better put on--what do you think?" Shestood contemplating the row in her closet.

  "Well, I don't think it'll matter a whole lot," I returned, "as long asit's clean and whole." I had seldom seen Eve so excited as she was thatmorning.

  "Oh, but we want to make a good impression, you never can tell when alittle thing like clothes will turn the balance!"

  At last we were ready; Aunt Cal in her second best silk, Eve and I insomething far less impressive, but feeling frightfully important justthe same. We gulped down a glassful of milk each before we started, tooexcited to eat anything. Aunt Cal locked Adam in the kitchen, more fromlong habit, I think, than because she any longer feared he would beenticed away.

  The ride to Millport seemed interminable. It was a quarter to two whenwe rolled into the dusty, car-lined main street of the town.

  But luck was with us. Mr. Templeton, the lawyer, was in, a portly manin shiny black who greeted Aunt Cal cordially and motioned us tochairs. Aunt Cal inquired whether there was any news of the man Bangs.

  "Nothing yet I'm afraid," the lawyer said. "But we may get hold of thefellow yet."

  "The girls have another matter they wish to discuss with you if you canspare them a moment," Aunt Cal then said in her precise manner.

  "Spare the time!" I thought. "He'd jolly well better!"

  "Certainly," Mr. Templeton beamed kindly upon us. "Anything I cando----"

  It was Eve who told the story, of course. I would surely have made abotch of it. When she had finished she took out the photograph and laidit on the desk.

  He examined it, nodding once or twice, while I fumed and twistedinwardly. "Well," he said at last, "I think perhaps the best thing wecan do is to go over and have a talk with the officer who has charge ofthe case. Perhaps the young ladies will accompany me?" He lookedinquiringly at Aunt Cal.

  She nodded her assent. "I will wait here," she said. "The girls can go."

  "What about young Gilpatrick?" the lawyer inquired as we set forth."Any way of getting hold of him if we should want him?"

  "Oh, Michael would be at the farm where he works until five o'clock,"Eve told him. "It's at Old Beecham, Seaman is the name, I think."

  The rest of the events of that perfectly thrilling afternoon willalways be slightly confused in my memory. What actually did happen isso mixed with my doubts and fears of what might. Would the augustauthority which was the Law stoop to consider our plea at all and, ifit did, would it admit anything so trifling as a snapshot taken bymyself as evidence?

  I shall never forget the moment when the red-faced policeman bentscowling over the picture; then handed it to one of his colleagues toexamine. Nor the moment when Mr. Templeton, tiptoeing in in order notto interrupt the conference that was going on, whispered that he'd gothold of Michael by telephone and that he'd be here in a short while.

  Most of all I shall never forget the moment when Michael himselfentered the room. He was breathing fast after his hurried bicycle ride.He did not know what he was wanted for of course but his mouth had thatsame set look it had had when he had told us he'd never go to hisfamily for help. When he caught sight of Eve and me, his astonishmentfor a moment wiped out every other expression. But in answer to Eve'sencouraging smile, he gave only a curt nod and turned toward the desk."You sent for me, sir?" he said.

  "Yeah," drawled the officer. "Wanted to have another talk with you'bout what you did last Saturday afternoon."

  Michael's lips closed harder; he didn't answer.

  "Let's see, you told us yesterday, that you didn't come to Millportthat day."

  "Yes."

  "Where were you, then, Saturday afternoon?"

  Michael scowled. "Just where I told you--on Fishers Haven Beach."

  "How long did you stay there?"

  "From a little bit after four till just about seven."

  "Are you in this picture?"

  Michael started as the policeman tossed the print across the desk. Hepicked it up and looked at it. "Yes," he said, "there on the end."

  "When was this picture taken?"

  Michael stared for a second; then in a flash he got it! "Why you cansee for yourself," he said, a new note in his voice. "It was taken theday these yachts came in--last Saturday afternoon. They come into theharbor the second Saturday in July every year. Here, you can see wherethe last of them is just coming inside the breakwater!"

  The other nodded. But the man beside the desk spoke suddenly: "How dowe know this here picture wasn't taken Sunday morning when the boatswent out?" he inquired.

  Michael laughed at him; it was his old light-hearted, ringing laugh."Well, you ought to know, sir," he said, "that you can't face inlandand have the sun in your face on Fishers Haven Beach in the morning!The yachts leave early; the sun would have been behind us instead of inour faces. Besides the position of the sails in the picture shows whichway the boats were moving. If they'd been going out----"

  "All right," the officer interrupted. "That's all. Charge dismissed."

  "Oh," Eve cried, "and he won't have to go to court tomorrow!"

  "That's right," the officer said with something that approached asmile. He turned to Mr. Templeton and the two conferred together. Icaught the name of Bangs.

  Michael came toward us; he was actually embarrassed. But the familiarquirky smile played about his lately solemn countenance. He had comefrom the farm just as he was and didn't even wear a coat over histurned-in blue shirt. "I thought I told you," he said with the pretenseof a scowl, "that I didn't want you mixed up in this!"

  "Are you angry with us?" Eve asked demurely.

  "Furious! And besides, I never am any good at saying thank you!"

  "Then don't," retorted Eve. "Anyway it was all Aunt Cal's doing. Shewas the one who first saw what the picture might do for you."

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