The Bloomfield times. [volume] (New Bloomfield, Pa.) 1867-187?, 1870-04-26


breast at sunset. In an instant more a ia
per was lighted; the curtain of the cloak
was drawn together again. But the secret
1t had exposed was impressed upon two
hearts as if they had been scared with iron.
AS drowning man thinks of the crowd
ed events of a lifetime, Foster Houghton
thought in that moment of supreme agony
of dozen links of circumstantial evidence
the boys bafhed desire for money, his
angry words, his evil associates, his missing
revolver, his deliberate explanation of a
night-long absence, his intimate knowledge
of the affairs of the bank, except the secret
combination of the lock, which he had often
teased for i'll vain. Two things were stamp
ed upon his brain together, and he was
thankful that his wife could know the hor-
ror of but one of them.
His own son was engaged in a plot to rob
the bank, by threats of assassination against
those who gave him life.
He himself was irrevocably enlisted in
plot to capturing the robbers, and so bring
his boy to infamy and punishment worse
than death.
The discovery compels q pause in the
narrative. 1t made none in the actual pro-
gress of events. The man who had spoken
motioned cashier to rise, and assisted his
trembling hands in covering his limbs with
one or two articles of clothing. The one
on the opposite side of the bed, moving
quickly and deftly as sailor, bound Mrs.
Houghton where she lay without touch of
rudeness or indignity beyond what his task
made necessary. A knotted handkerchief
from his pocket, was tied across hermouth.
The third figure stood at the window, either
to keep watch without, or to avoid seeing
what took place within but Foster Hough-
toms eyes could see no tremor no sign Of
remorse or hesitation, i'll its bearing.
"Now, CASHIER" said the one voice
which alone had been heard since the stroke
of the clock, "you will have to consider
yourself ready for we have no time to
spare. l feel sure you know what is healthy
for you, but still / will tie this rope around
your waist to save you from any dangerous
temptation to try side street. Number
Two, you will go below, and sec that the
coast is clear.''
With one look at his wife's eyes, in which
he saw outraged motherly affection, where
the strangers saw only fright and pain,
Foster Houghton suffered himself to be
led from the room. One of the robbers had
preceded him; one held him tightly by the
wrist ; one, the one whose presence gave
the scene its treble terror, remained only
long enough to lock the door. The outer
door was fastened behind them also and
then the noseless little procession (for the
cashier had been permitted to put on his
stockings only filed along the gravel walk,
through the pitchy blacllness which a mist
gives to a moonless night, toward the soli-
tary brick building occupied by the Blue
River National Bank.
They passed the school-house where Fos-
ter Houghton had carried his boy dozen
years before with bright new primer
clutched III his frightened little fingers !;
then the desolate old mansion of his own
father, where the lad had been petted and
worshiped as fervently as at home little
farther on, the church, where the baby had
been baptised, and where the youth had
chafed beneath distasteful sermons-its
white steeple lost in the upper darkness
and, a few PAGES beyond, the academy,
within whose walls the cashier had listened
with such pride to his Harry's eloquent
defamation of "The Return of Regulus to
Carthage" on the last Commencement day.
He thought Of these things as they passed.
though SO many other thoughts surged in
his mind and he wondered if another
heart beside his own was beset with such
"reminiscences on the silent journey.
Before they had reached the bank the
man who had gone on in advance rejoined
J them.