the particulars regarding my father's death. Now, I
had lived some sixteen years up to this very evening and had never
heard anything but the simplest and plainest story of my father's
unfortunate death. But even the doctor spurred my awakened curiosity
now.

What did it mean? I had been told by my mother, by Ham, and by other
people as I grew up, that Dr. Webb had rowed out in a dory to fish off
White Rock, a particularly good local fishing ground for blackfish. Some
hours later a passing fishing party discovered the empty dory, bobbing
up and down at the end of its kedge cable. The fishing lines were out.
My father's hat was in the boat, and his watch lay upon a seat as though
he had taken it out and put it beside him so as not to forget when to
row back to attend to his patients. It was a fine timepiece, had
belonged to his father, and I wear it myself now on "state and date"
occasions.

But the fishermen saw no other sign of the doctor. It was plain he had
fallen overboard. With the current as it is about White Rock it was no
wonder that the body was never recovered.

The story seemed plain enough. There was nothing that could be added to
it. That there was any mystery about my father's death I could not
believe. And the suggestion that Paul Downes had made I utterly scoffed
at!

Yet I wanted to see Ham Mayberry before I went to sleep that night.

Dr. Eldridge came down after a long time, and his pink, fat face was
very serious. "How is she?" I asked him, eagerly.

"She's all right--for the night," he replied. But his gravity did not
leave him--which was strange. The doctor was a most sanguine
practitioner and usually brought a spirit of cheerfulness with him into
any home where there was illness. "Clint," he said, "you want to be
careful of that little mother of yours."

"My goodness, Doctor!" I exclaimed. "You don't suppose that I had
anything to do with this business tonight? That I brought it about?"

"If you have another row with your cousin--or words with his
father--have it all outside the house. She is in a very nervous state.
She must not be worried. Friction in the household is bad for her.
And--well, I'll drop in again and see her tomorrow."

What he said frightened me. When he had gone I went up and tapped on the
door. But Marie would not let me in the room.

"She is resting now, Master Clin-tone," said the French woman, and then
shut the door in my face.

I couldn't have slept then had I g