Emily's first day in the City library proved to be a day wasted.

She began reading the back numbers of the newspaper at haphazard,without any definite idea of what she was looking for. Consciousof the error into which her own impatience had led her, she wasat a loss how to retrace the false step that she had taken. Buttwo alternatives presented themselves: either to abandon the hopeof making any discovery--or to attempt to penetrate Alban 'smotives by means of pure guesswork, pursued in the dark.

How was the problem to be solved? This serious question troubledher all through the evening, and kept her awake when she went tobed. In despair of her capacity to remove the obstacle that stoodin her way, she decided on resuming her regular work at theMuseum--turned her pillow to get at the cool side of it--and madeup her mind to go asleep.

In the case of the wiser animals, the Person submits to Sleep. Itis only the superior human being who tries the hopelessexperiment of making Sleep submit to the Person. Wakeful on thewarm side of the pillow, Emily remained wakeful on the coolside--thinking again and again of the interview with Alban whichhad ended so strangely.

Little by little, her mind passed the limits which had restrainedit thus far. Alban's conduct in keeping his secret, in the matterof the newspapers, now began to associate itself with Alban'sconduct in keeping that other secret, which concealed from herhis suspicions of Mrs. Rook.

She started up in bed as the next possibility occurred to her.

In speaking of the disaster which had compelled Mr. and Mrs. Rookto close the inn, Cecilia had alluded to an inquest held on thebody of the murdered man. Had the inquest been mentioned in thenewspapers, at the time? And had Alban seen something in thereport, which concerned Mrs. Rook?

Led by the new light that had fallen on her, Emily returned tothe library the next morning with a definite idea of what she hadto look for. Incapable of giving exact dates, Cecilia hadinformed her that the crime was committed "in the autumn." Themonth to choose, in beginning her examination, was therefore themonth of August.

No discovery rewarded her. She tried September, next--with thesame unsatisfactory results. On Monday the first of October shemet with some encouragement at last. At the top of a columnappeared a telegraphic summary of all that was then known of thecrime. In the number for the Wednesday following, she found afull report of the proceedings at the inquest.

Passing over the preliminary remarks, Emily read the evidencewith the closest attention.

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The jury having viewed the body, and having visited an outhousein which the murder had been committed, the first witness calledwas Mr. Benjamin Rook, landlord of the Hand-in-Hand inn.

On the evening of Sunday, September 30th, 1877, two gentlemenpresented themselves at Mr. Rook's house, under circumstanceswhich especially excited his attention.

The youngest of the two was short, and of fair complexion. Hecarried a knapsack, like a gentleman on a pedestrian excursion;his manners were pleasant; and he was decidedly good-looking. Hiscompanion, older, taller, and darker--and a finer manaltogether--leaned on his arm and seemed to be exhausted. Inevery respect they were singularly unlike each other. The youngerstranger (excepting little half-whiskers) was clean shaved. Theelder wore his whole beard. Not knowing their names, the landlorddistinguished them, at the coroner's suggestion, as the fairgentleman, and the dark gentleman.

It was raining when the two arrived at the inn. There were signsin the heavens of a stormy night.

On accosting the landlord, the fair gentleman volunteered thefollowing statement:

Approaching the village, he had been startled by seeing the darkgentleman (a total stranger to him) stretched prostrate on thegrass at the roadside--so far as he could judge, in a swoon.Having a flask with brandy in it, he revived the fainting man,and led him to the inn.

This statement was confirmed by a laborer, who was on his way tothe village at the time.

The dark gentleman endeavored to explain what had happened tohim. He had, as he supposed, allowed too long a time to pass(after an early breakfast that morning), without taking food: hecould only attribute the fainting fit to that cause. He was notliable to fainting fits. What purpose (if any) had brought himinto the neighborhood of Zeeland, he did not state. He had nointention of remaining at the inn, except for refreshment; and heasked for a carriage to take him to the railway station.

The fair gentleman, seeing the signs of bad weather, desired toremain in Mr. Rook's house for the night, and proposed to resumehis walking tour the next day.

Excepting the case of supper, which could be easily provided, thelandlord had no choice but to disappoint both his guests. In hissmall way of business, none of his customers wanted to hire acarriage--even if he could have afforded to keep one. As forbeds, the few rooms which the inn contained were all engaged;including even the room occupied by himself and his wife. Anexhibition of agricultural implements had been opened in theneighborhood, only two days since; and a public competitionbetween rival machines was to be decided on the coming Monday.Not only was the Hand-in-Hand inn crowded, but even theaccommodation offered by the nearest town had proved barelysufficient to meet the public demand.

The gentlemen looked at each other and agreed that there was nohelp for it but to hurry the supper, and walk to the railwaystation--a distance of between five and six miles--in time tocatch the last train.

While the meal was being prepared, the rain held off for a while.The dark man asked his way to the post-office and went out byhimself.

He came back in about ten minutes, and sat down afterward tosupper with his companion. Neither the landlord, nor any otherperson in the public room, noticed any change in him on hisreturn. He was a grave, quiet sort of person, and (unlike theother one) not much of a talker.

As the darkness came on, the rain fell again heavily; and theheavens were black.

A flash of lightning startled the gentlemen when they went to thewindow to look out: the thunderstorm began. It was simplyimpossible that two strangers to the neighborhood could findtheir way to the station, through storm and darkness, in time tocatch the train. With or without bedrooms, they must remain atthe inn for the night. Having already given up their own room totheir lodgers, the landlord and landlady had no other place tosleep in than the kitchen. Next to the kitchen, and communicatingwith it by a door, was an outhouse; used, partly as a scullery,partly as a lumber-room. There was an old truckle-bed among thelumber, on which one of the gentlemen might rest. A mattress onthe floor could be provided for the other. After adding a tableand a basin, for the purposes of the toilet, the accommodationwhich Mr. Rook was able to offer came to an end.

The travelers agreed to occupy this makeshift bed-chamber.

The thunderstorm passed away; but the rain continued to fallheavily. Soon after eleven the guests at the inn retired for thenight. There was some little discussion between the twotravelers, as to which of them should take possession of thetruckle-bed. It was put an end to by the fair gentleman, in hisown pleasant way. He proposed to "toss up for it"--and he lost.The dark gentleman went to bed first; the fair gentlemanfollowed, after waiting a while. Mr. Rook took his knapsack intothe outhouse; and arranged on the table his appliances for thetoilet--contained in a leather roll, and including a razor--readyfor use in the morning.

Having previously barred the second door of the outhouse, whichled into the yard, Mr. Rook fastened the other door, the lock andbolts of which were on the side of the kitchen. He then securedthe house door, and the shutters over the lower windows.Returning to the kitchen, he noticed that the time was tenminutes short of midnight. Soon afterward, he and his wife wentto bed.

Nothing happened to disturb Mr. and Mrs. Rook during the night.

At a quarter to seven the next morning, he got up; his wife beingstill asleep. He had been instructed to wake the gentlemen early;and he knocked at their door. Receiving no answer, afterrepeatedly knocking, he opened the door and stepped into theouthouse.

At this point in his evidence, the witness's recollectionsappeared to overpow er him. "Give me a moment, gentlemen," hesaid to the jury. "I have had a dreadful fright; and I don'tbelieve I shall get over it for the rest of my life."

The coroner helped him by a question: "What did you see when youopened the door?"

Mr. Rook answered: "I saw the dark man stretched out on hisbed--dead, with a frightful wound in his throat. I saw an openrazor, stained with smears of blood, at his side."

"Did you notice the door, leading into the yard?"

"It was wide open, sir. When I was able to look round me, theother traveler--I mean the man with the fair complexion, whocarried the knapsack--was nowhere to be seen."

"What did you do, after making these discoveries?"

"I closed the yard door. Then I locked the other door, and putthe key in my pocket. After that I roused the servant, and senthim to the constable--who lived near to us--while I ran for thedoctor, whose house was at the other end of our village. Thedoctor sent his groom, on horseback, to the police-office in thetown. When I returned to the inn, the constable was there--and heand the police took the matter into their own hands."

"You have nothing more to tell us?"

"Nothing more."