r which left The Whispering Pines at ten or half
past ten that night, then it may mean life and death to the man now in
jail under the dreadful charge of murder."

Catching up her child, she slid into the kitchen and sat down with it, in
the first chair she came to. Sweetwater following her, took up his stand
in the doorway, unobtrusive, but patiently waiting for her to speak. The
steaming kettles and the table set for dinner gave warning of the
expected presence for which she had been watching, but she seemed to have
forgotten her husband; forgotten everything but her own emotions.

"Who are you?" she asked at length. "You have not told me your real
business."

"No, madam, and I ask your pardon. I feared that my real business, if
suddenly made known to you, might startle, perhaps frighten you. I am a
detective on the look-out for evidence in the case I have just mentioned.
I have a theory that a most important witness in the same, drove by here
at the hour and on the night I have named. I want to substantiate that
theory. Can you help me?"

A sensitiveness to, and quick appreciation of, the character of those he
addressed was one of Sweetwater's most valuable attributes. No glossing
of the truth, however skillfully applied, would have served him with this
woman so well as this simple statement, followed by its equally simple
and direct inquiry. Scrutinising him over the child's head, she gave but
a casual glance at the badge he took pains to show her, then in as quiet
and simple tones as he had himself used, she made this reply:

"I can help you some. You make it my duty, and I have never shrunk from
duty. A horse and cutter did go by here on its way uphill, last Tuesday
night at about eleven o'clock. I remember the hour because I was
expecting my husband every minute, just as I am now. He had some extra
work on hand that night which he expected to detain him till eleven or a
quarter after. Supper was to be ready at a quarter after. To surprise
him I had beaten up some biscuits, and I had just put them in the pan
when I heard the clock strike the hour. Afraid that he would come before
they were baked, I thrust the pan into the oven and ran to the front door
to look out. It was snowing very hard, and the road looked white and
empty, but as I stood there a horse and cutter came in sight, which, as
it reached the gate, drew up in a great hurry, as if something was the
matter. Frightened, because I'm always thinking of