to the hotel. He was an intelligent,
shrewd, agreeable business man, about thirty-five years old, and he
impressed all who made his acquaintance, as a gentleman of ability and
energy. He signed the register, as 'John M. Andrews, Baltimore,' and the
landlord soon learned from him that he had come to Atkinson to reside
permanently, if he could get into business there. Mr. Andrews was
evidently a man of considerable wealth, though he made no ostentatious
display, nor did he talk about his property as though he cared to
impress upon other people the idea that he was rich. Still, it came to
be generally understood, in a few days, that he had made quite a
fortune, as a cotton broker, in Baltimore, and that he had a
considerable sum in cash to invest, when a desirable opportunity should
offer. This fact, together with his agreeable manners, made his society
quite an acquisition to the town, and he was soon on familiar terms with
all the regular boarders in the hotel, and with many prominent residents
of the place.

Some days after Mr. Andrews arrived the hotel received another equally
popular guest. She gave her name, as Mrs. R. C. Potter, and her object
in visiting Atkinson, was to improve her health. She was accompanied by
her father, Mr. C. B. Rowell, a fine looking, white-haired old
gentleman, but he remained only long enough to see her comfortably
settled, and then returned to their home in Jacksonville, Florida, as
his business required his immediate presence there. Mrs. Potter was a
distinguished looking brunette; she was a widow with no children, and
she might have passed for thirty years of age. She was tall and
graceful, and her entertaining conversation made her a general favorite
among the ladies in the hotel. She was not an invalid, strictly
speaking, but the family physician had recommended that she should go to
the dry air of northern Mississippi for a few months, to escape the
rainy, foggy weather of Florida at that season.

About a week after her arrival, she went out with two other ladies, Mrs.
Townsend and Mrs. Richter, to explore the beauties of Rocky Creek. They
spent a pleasant afternoon in the wooded ravines, and it was after five
o'clock, before they returned. As they sauntered down one of the
pleasantest streets of the town, they noticed a lady standing at the
gate of an elegant residence, with large grounds.

"Oh! there is Mrs. Drysdale," said Mrs. Townsend. "Have you met her, Mrs.
Potter?"

"No