dangerous delay, as coroners go forth early with their guns loaded for
game hiding in coaches.

It was even more dismal, cold and damp in the ferryboat. Mrs. Tescheron
fell quietly into tears there. This overflow of her emotions was not
noticed by Mr. Tescheron, who looked steadily out of the window at the
moving engines. Gabrielle saw her mother crying, and was at once
overcome with pity; to Katie it seemed as if she was on the point of
sharing her mother's grief for the loved one now mourned. Katie could
see that Mrs. Tescheron had thought a good deal of the person, whoever
it might be, and that Miss Tescheron had shared in this regard. Mr.
Tescheron, on the other hand, seemed to be provoked that it had happened
until the boat struck the Hoboken pier, and then he looked out of the
coach window with a smile, indicating a change of opinion. The smile was
that of the conquering hero, outgeneraling in retreat allied forces
outnumbering his small army a thousand times. A great head, thought Mr.
Tescheron, may beat the law, especially if it keeps awake all night to
be on the field early in the morning.

The Stuffer House, founded by the great-grandfather of the present
proprietor, August Stuffer, was situated not far from the ferry and
steamship piers. Its Colonial front and three stories of red brick, and
windows with small panes, gave it the air of a Washington's
headquarters, which Mr. Stuffer could undoubtedly prove it had been, for
his tales were the most convincing arguments that the hostelry had been
named by a whimsical fate not too dignified to stoop to punning. There
were times when the hungry boarders thought the name facetious, but
they conceded it to be quite exact in a descriptive sense, if its brick
and mortar were intended to honor monumentally the tales of the host.
His first name, August, was not an adjective of limitation as to time,
for the proprietor was A. Stuffer every month and day in the year; and
his son Emil, a quiet, inoffensive student of birds, a taxidermist,
ornithologist and mechanical engineer, and a graduate of the neighboring
Stevens Institute, world-famed for the breadth and thoroughness of its
training, was a worthy son in practically applying to birds abundant
science and all the art employed by his father to hold and encourage
trade among the guests.

It was about 6 o'clock when the Tescheron coach drew up at the old
port-cochere, and no one but the night clerk was about. He swung