own to warn the authorities,
old Brax meantime having taken upon himself the responsibility of
placing a guard at the house, with orders to keep Alphonse and his
mother in and everybody else out.

It is hardly worth while to waste time on the various theories advanced
in the garrison as to the cause and means of the dreadful climax. That
Doyle should be away from the post provoked neither comment nor
speculation: he was not connected in any way with the tragedy. But the
fact that Mr. Waring was absent all night, coupled with the stories of
his devotions to Madame, was to several minds _prima facie_ evidence
that his was the bloody hand that wrought the deed,--that he was now a
fugitive from justice, and Madame Lascelles, beyond doubt, the guilty
partner of his flight. Everybody knew by this time of their being
together much of the morning: how could people help knowing, when Dryden
had seen them? In his elegantly jocular way, Dryden was already
condoling with Ferry on the probable loss of his Hatfield clothes, and
comforting him with the assurance that they always gave a feller a new
black suit to be hanged in, so he might get his duds back after all,
only they must get Waring first. Jeffers doubtless would have been
besieged with questions but for Cram's foresight: his master had ordered
him to accompany him to town.

In silence a second time the little party rode away, passing the flooded
homestead where lay the murdered man, then, farther on, gazing in mute
curiosity at the closed shutters of the premises some infantry satirists
had already christened "the dove-cot." What cared they for him or his
objectionable helpmate? Still, they could not but note how gloomy and
deserted it all appeared, with two feet of water lapping the garden
wall. Summoned by his master, Jeffers knuckled his oil-skin hat-brim and
pointed out the spot where Mr. Waring stood when he knocked the cabman
into the mud, but Jeffers's tongue was tied and his cockney volubility
gone. The tracks made by Cram's wagon up the slope were already washed
out. Bending forward to dodge the blinding storm, the party pushed along
the embankment until at last the avenues and alleys to their right gave
proof of better drainage. At Rampart Street they separated, Pierce going
on to report the tragedy to the police, Cram turning to his right and
following the broad thoroughfare another mile, until Jeffers, indicating
a big, old-fashioned, broad-galleried Southern ho