"I'm only doing
my duty as it's laid out by the statutes," he muttered. He quailed under
the old man's eyes. He did not like the sound of the mumbling at the
windows nor relish the looks of the men who had just come flocking into
the yard at the heels of Sylvester.
"'Twas sworn out and passed to me," stated the sheriff.
"Sworn out on complaint of Tom Willy." He looked above the document and
saw in the doorway the man who had cried information regarding the
liquor in the cellar. "Tom Willy, the cheapest drunkard we've got in the
town, taking sneaking revenge because he has been shut off from
privileges here that decent men haven't abused! But I tell you,
gentlemen, even Tom Willy isn't as cheap as the men who have sneaked
behind him and prodded him on to do this. There's some one behind him,
for Tom Willy hasn't got brains enough nor sprawl enough to do this all
by himself."
He gave the warrant back to the sheriff. He had recovered his
self-possession. He was again their Duke of Fort Canibas, who could
retire with dignity even from such a position as this.
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