and, whose anticipated approach had occasioned all this
abruptness, was coming down the hill when Sweetwater left the gate. As
this detective of ours was as careful in his finish as in all the rest
of his work, he called out as he went by:

"I've just been trying to sell a wonderful contrivance of mine to the
missus. But it was no go."

The man looked, smiled, and went in at his own gate with the air of one
happy in wife, child, and home.

Sweetwater went on up the hill. Towards the top, he came upon a
livery-stable. Stopping in his good-humoured way, he entered into talk
with a man loitering inside the great door. Before he left him, he had
asked him these questions:

"Any grey horse in town?"

"Yes, _one_."

"I think I've seen it--has a patch of black on its left shoulder."

"Yes."

"Whose is it? I've a mighty curiosity about the horse. Looks like a
trick horse."

"I don't know what you mean by that. It belongs to a respectable family.
A family you must have heard about if you ever heard anything. There's a
funeral there to-day--"

"Not Miss Cumberland's?" exclaimed Sweetwater, all agog in a moment.

"Yes, Miss Cumberland's. I thought you might have heard the name."

"Yes, I've heard it."

The tone was dry, the words abrupt, but the detective's heart was dancing
like a feather. The next turn he took was toward the handsome residence
district crowning the hill.

XI

IN THE COACH HOUSE

All things that we ordained festival
Turn from their office to black funeral;
Our instruments to melancholy bells;
Our wedding cheer to a sad burial feast;
And all things change them to the contrary.

_Romeo and Juliet_.

Fifteen minutes later, he stood in a finely wooded street before an open
gateway guarded by a policeman. Showing his badge, he passed in, and
entered a long and slightly curved driveway. As he did so, he took a
glance at the house. It was not as pretentious as he expected, but
infinitely more inviting. Low and rambling, covered with vines, and
nestling amid shrubbery which even in winter gave it a habitable air, it
looked as much the abode of comfort as of luxury, and gave--in outward
appearance at least--no hint of the dark shadow which had so lately
fallen across it.

The ceremonies had been set for three o'clock, and it was now half past
two. As Sweetwater reached the head of the driveway, he saw the first of
a long file of carriages approaching up the street.

"Lucky that my bus