I
stepped forward. The lawyer did not return that smile.

"What is your name?" he asked shortly and sharply, as if he distrusted
me.

"Hugh Austin," was my quiet reply.

"There is no such name on the list," snapped old Smead, with an
authoritative gesture toward those who seemed anxious to enter a
protest.

"Probably not," I returned, "for I am neither a Witherspoon, a
Westonhaugh nor a Clapsaddle. I am merely a chance wayfarer passing
through the town on my way west. I thought this house was a tavern, or
at least a place I could lodge in. The man I met in the doorway told me
as much, and so I am here. If my company is not agreeable, or if you
wish this room to yourselves, let me go into the kitchen. I promise not
to meddle with the supper, hungry as I am. Or perhaps you wish me to
join the crowd outside; it seems to be increasing."

"No, no," came from all parts of the room. "Don't let the door be
opened. Nothing could keep Lemuel and his crowd out if they once got
foot over the threshold."

The lawyer rubbed his chin. He seemed to be in some sort of quandary.
First he scrutinized me from under his shaggy brows with a sharp gleam
of suspicion; then his features softened and, with a side glance at the
young woman who called herself Eunice, (perhaps, because she was worth
looking at, perhaps because she had partly risen at my words), he
slipped toward a door I had before observed in the wainscoting on the
left of the mantelpiece, and softly opened it upon what looked like a
narrow staircase.

"We can not let you go out," said he; "and we can not let you have a
finger in our viands before the hour comes for serving them; so if you
will be so good as to follow this staircase to the top, you will find it
ends in a room comfortable enough for the wayfarer you call yourself. In
that room you can rest till the way is clear for you to continue your
travels. Better, we can not do for you. This house is not a tavern, but
the somewhat valuable property of--" He turned with a bow and smile, as
every one there drew a deep breath; but no one ventured to end that
sentence.

I would have given all my future prospects (which, by the way, were not
very great) to remain in that room. The oddity of the situation; the
mystery of the occurrence; the suspense I saw in every face; the
eagerness of the cries I heard redoubled from time to time outside; the
malevolence but poorly disguised in the old lawyer's countenance; and,
above