jury listened with
interest to his fluent account of his occupation in the valley, which
had been mercantile, of his temporary residence here for a bronchial
affection; and when he was asked to identify the man who had so
mysteriously come to his death, they marked his quick, easy stride as
he crossed the room, with his hat in his hand, and his unmoved
countenance as he looked fixedly down into the face of the dead. He
remained a longer interval than was usual with the witnesses, as if to
make sure. Then, still quite businesslike and brisk, he stated that he
could not identify him, having certainly never seen him before.

"The only papers which he had on him," said the coroner, watching the
effect of his words, "were two letters addressed to you."

The young man started in palpable surprise. As he looked at the
exterior of the letters, which were stamped and postmarked, he
observed that they must have been taken out of the post-office
at Sandford Cross-Roads, to expedite their delivery; the
postmaster doubtless consenting to this request on the part
of so reputable-looking a person or a possible acquaintance.

"Were you expecting a visitor?" asked the coroner.

"Not at all," responded the puzzled witness.

He was requested to open the letters, read and show them. But he
waived this courtesy, asking the coroner to open and read them to the
jury. They were of no moment, both on matters of casual business, and
Mr. Alan Selwyn was dismissed; the coroner blandly regretting that, in
view of his malady, he had been required to come out in so chilly a
rain.

Notwithstanding his composure he was in some haste to be gone. He went
quickly through the crowd, drawing down his hat over his brow, and
deftly buttoning his overcoat across his chest and throat. He had
reached his horse, and had placed one foot in the stirrup, when,
chancing to glance back over his shoulder, he saw Narcissa Hanway's
white, flowerlike face, her bonnet pushed far back on her tawny yellow
hair, both arms outstretched in a gesture of negation and repulsion
toward the apartment where the jury sat, while a dark-haired, slow man
urged her forward, one hand on her shoulder, and the old mountain
woman followed with insistence and encouragement. He hesitated for a
moment; then putting spurs to his horse, he rode off swiftly through
the slanting lines of rain.

III.

A sense of helplessness in the hands of fate is in some sort conducive
to courage. Doub