place and people connected with that awful tragedy? Why was this?
The guilt was not his, yet he could not feel himself near any person,
however remotely connected with it, without thrills of dread.

The man had been talking on, but Hepworth heard nothing at first, he had
been too painfully startled; when he did listen, these words fell on his
ear:

"That was an awful affair, Mr. Hepworth; most people was astonished, but
I never was; always had my suspicions of that old woman; believe she
robbed the house of lots and lots of things, after the lady was dead; in
fact, am sure of it. Mrs. Stacy here is of my opinion. There was a girl
in the house--perhaps you remember her, sir--Maggie we used to call her;
she and the old woman Yates was thick as thieves, and both laid their
heads together. It wasn't for nothing, let me tell you; their nests were
feathered, you may believe. There never was a sharper girl than Maggie
Casey."

"She was just a forerd, imperdent cretur as set her cap at you like a
fiery draggon," broke out the woman, who occupied a seat by the stout
man, and was evidently his wife; "a cretur as I wouldn't wipe my shoes
on, after a long walk--no, not if she'd give me fifty pair for doing of
it."

"I am not saying anything to the contrary, my dear, am I? That girl was
after me sharp enough, but I never encouraged her. Mr. Hepworth can
satisfy you on that point, my own Harriet, for I remember, as if it was
yesterday, he and I talking about it the very day afore that murder, and
we both agreed that her conduct was scandalous."

Hepworth shuddered. How well he remembered that artful conversation. How
hideous it appeared to him now.

"But I don't think Mr. Hepworth remembers us for positive, even now,"
said the woman; "just look in my face, young gent, and say if you do."

"Harriet, my dear, isn't that a little, just a little, promiscous?" said
the husband, as a broad, red face, with a pointed nose, turning up in
the centre, and two small leaden blue eyes looking across it, was bent
forward, and challenged Hepworth's inspection. "Remember, things have
changed since we knew this gentleman."

"In course they have changed, and I haven't no doubt that is just what
is a puzzling him now; but when I ask Mr. Hepworth if he remembers the
first punken-pie he ever eat in his born days, and who made it, he'll be
sure to remember Harriet, and I ain't ashamed to say that I am her, if I
do wear an Injur shawl, and if that