sense of relief when the officials had gone their way into the
night, leaving him and his two companions to their vigil.

Now for the first time they had leisure and opportunity to look about
them. It was a poor enough place, all things considered; the furniture
was dingy with age and neglect, for Archibald McBride had kept no
servant; a worn and faded carpet covered the floor; there was an
engraving of Washington Crossing the Delaware and a few old-fashioned
woodcuts on the wall; at one side of the room was a desk, opposite it a
rusted sheet-iron stove in which Watt Harbison was already starting a
fire; there was a scant assortment of uncomfortable chairs, a table,
with one leg bandaged, and near the desk an old mahogany davenport.

"This wouldn't have suited you, eh, Colonel?" said Gilmore at last.

"He could hardly be said to live here, he merely came here to sleep,"
answered the colonel.

"No, he couldn't have cared for anything but the one thing," said
Gilmore. "Were you ever here before, Colonel?" he added.

"Never."

"I don't suppose half a dozen people in the town were ever inside his
door until to-night," said Watt Harbison, speaking for the first time.

Gilmore turned to look at the colonel's nephew as if he had only that
moment become aware of his presence. What he saw did not impress him
greatly, for young Watt, save for an unusually large head, was much like
other young men of his class. His speech was soft, his face beardless
and his gray eyes gazed steadily but without curiosity on, what was for
him, an uncliented world. For the eighteen months that he had been an
"attorney and counselor at law" the detail of office rent had been taken
care of by the colonel.

"Sort of makes the game he played seem rotten poor sport," commented
Gilmore, replying to the nephew but looking at the uncle.

The colonel was silent.

"Rotten poor sport!" repeated Gilmore.

"Who'll come in for his property?" asked Watt Harbison.

"Oh, some one will claim that," said Gilmore. "They were saying down at
the store, that once, years ago, a brother of his turned up, here, but
McBride got rid of him."

"Suppose we have a look around before we settle ourselves for the
night," suggested Watt Harbison.

"Will you join us, Colonel?" asked the gambler.

But the colonel shook his head. Gilmore took up one of the lamps as he
spoke and opened a door that led into what had evidently once been a
dining-room, but it was now only