onard's little dog sprang from her basket kennel, wagging her
tail in hopes of her master, but in her disappointment greeting one
whom dogs always hailed as a friend,

'Poor little doggie! good little Mab! If only you could tell us!' and
the creature fondly responded to his gentle hand, though keeping aloof
from Henry, in mindfulness of past passages between them, while Henry
could evidently not bear to look at her.

They gazed round the room, but it conveyed no elucidation of the
mystery. There were Leonard's books in their range on the drawers, his
fossils in his cupboard, his mother's photograph on his mantel-piece,
his sister's drawings on the wall. His gray uniform lay on the bed as
if recently taken off, his ordinary office coat was folded on a chair,
and he seemed to have dressed and gone in his best clothes. While
anxiously seeking some note of explanation, they heard a step, and Sam
Axworthy entered, speaking fast and low in apology for not having
sooner appeared, but he had been thoroughly upset; as indeed he looked,
his whole appearance betraying the disorder of the evening's
dissipation, followed by the morning's shock.

Most unfortunate, he said, that he had not returned earlier. His
friend Black--Tom Black, of Edsall Green--had driven him home in his
dog-cart, set him down at the turn to cross the fields--moon as light
as day--no notion, of the lateness till he got in sight of the great
clock, and saw it was half-past twelve; so knowing the early habits of
the place, he had thought it best to turn back, and get a bed at the
Three Goblets. If he had only come home, he might have prevented
mischief! There ensued a few commonplace words on the old man's infirm
state, yet his independent habits, and reluctance to let any servant
assist him, or even sleep near him. Sam spoke as if in a dream, and
was evidently so unwell, that Dr. May thought it charitable to follow
the dictates of his own disgust at breaking bread in that house of
horrors, and refuse offers of breakfast. He said he must go home, but
would return for the inquest, and asked whether Henry would remain to
meet his brother.

'No, no, thank you,' said Henry huskily, as with the driest of throats,
and a perceptible shudder, he turned to go away; the Doctor pausing to
caress little Mab, and say, 'I had better take home this poor little
thing. She may come to harm here, and may be a comfort to the sister.'

No objection came from Sam, but