irtually, sir. They have not moved their trunks; but neither of them
is in Haddam at present. Mrs. Van Burnam came to New York last Monday
morning, and in the afternoon her husband also left, presumably for New
York. I have seen nothing of either of them since."

(It was on Tuesday night the murder occurred.)

"Did either of them take a trunk?"

"No, sir."

"A hand-bag?"

"Yes; Mrs. Van Burnam carried a bag, but it was a very small one."

"Large enough to hold a dress?"

"O no, sir."

"And Mr. Van Burnam?"

"He carried an umbrella; I saw nothing else."

"Why did they not leave together? Did you hear any one say?"

"Yes; I heard them say Mrs. Van Burnam came against her husband's
wishes. He did not want her to leave Haddam, but she would, and he was
none too pleased at it. Indeed they had words about it, and as both our
rooms overlook the same veranda, I could not help hearing some of their
talk."

"Will you tell us what you heard?"

"It does not seem right" (thus this honest woman spoke), "but if it's
the law, I must not go against it. I heard him say these words: 'I have
changed my mind, Louise. The more I think of it, the more disinclined I
am to have you meddle in the matter. Besides, it will do no good. You
will only add to the prejudice against you, and our life will become
more unbearable than it is now.'"

"Of what were they speaking?"

"I do not know."

"And what did she reply?"

"O, she uttered a torrent of words that had less sense in them than
feeling. She wanted to go, she would go, _she_ had not changed _her_
mind, and considered that her impulses were as well worth following as
his cool judgment. She was not happy, had never been happy, and meant
there should be a change, even if it were for the worse. But she did not
believe it would be for the worse. Was she not pretty? Was she not very
pretty when in distress and looking up thus? And I heard her fall on her
knees, a movement which called out a grunt from her husband, but whether
this was an expression of approval or disapproval I cannot say. A
silence followed, during which I caught the sound of his steady tramping
up and down the room. Then she spoke again in a petulant way. 'It may
seem foolish to _you_' she cried, 'knowing me as you do, and being used
to seeing me in all my moods. But to him it will be a surprise, and I
will so manage it that it will effect all we want, and more, too,
perhaps. I--I have a genius for some things