e stories I've heard about my family."

His experience when he had gone to the room to take the evidence from
Howells's body became active in Bobby's memory.

"There I lay with my eyes shut," Silas Blackburn went on in his strange,
inquiring voice. "And yet I seemed to see those dead people all around
me, and I thought they were in pain again, and were mad at me because I
didn't do anything. I guess maybe I must 'a' been dozing a little, for I
thought--"

He broke off. He raised his hand slowly and pointed in the direction of
the overgrown cemetery where they had seen his coffin covered that noon.
His voice was lower and harsher when he continued:

"I--I thought I heard them say that things were all broken out there,
and--and awful--so awful they couldn't stay."

His voice became defiant.

"I ain't going to tell you what I dreamed. It was too horrible, but I
made up my mind I would do what I could if I ever escaped from that room.
I--I was afraid they'd take me back with them underneath those broken
stones. And you--you stand there trying to tell me that they did."

He paused again, looking around with a more defiant glare in his
bloodshot eyes. He appeared to be surprised not to find them
laughing at him.

"What's the matter with you all?" he cried. "Why ain't you making me out
a fool? You seen something in that room, too?"

"Go on," Robinson urged. "What happened then? What did you do?"

Blackburn's voice resumed its throaty monotone. As he spoke he glanced
about slyly, suspecting, perhaps, the watchfulness of the fancies that
had intimidated him.

"I realized I had to get out if they would let me. So I left the
bed. I went."

He ceased, intimating that he had told everything.

"I know," Robinson said, "but tell us how you got out of the room, for
when you--when the murder was discovered, both doors were locked on the
inside, and you know how impossible the windows are."

"I tell you," Katherine said hysterically, "it _was_ his body in the
bed."

Bobby knew her assurance was justified, but he motioned her to silence.

"Let him answer," Robinson said.

Silas Blackburn ran his knotted fingers through his hair. He shook his
head doubtfully.

"That's what I don't understand myself. That's what's been worrying me
while these young ones have been talking as if I was dead and buried. I
recollect telling myself I must go. I seem to remember leaving the bed
all right, but I don't seem to remember walking