So numerous had been the concourse of people, and so engrossed were they in their demonstrations of sorrow and affection for their departed friend, that the presence of a stranger among them had not been observed. He was a man whose appearance would not have won their favour. Apart from the fact that he was unknown--which in itself, because of late events, would have predisposed them against him--his face and clothes would not have recommended him. He had the air of one who was familiar with prisons; he was common and coarse-looking; his clothes were a conglomeration of patches and odds and ends; he gazed about him furtively, as though seeking for some particular person or for some special information, and at the same time wishful, for private and not creditable reasons, not to draw upon himself a too close observation. Had he done so, it would have been noted that he entered the village early in the day, and, addressing himself to children--his evident desire being to avoid intercourse with men and women--learnt from them the direction of Gabriel Carew's house. Thither he wended his way, and loitered about the house, looking up at the windows and watching the doors for the appearance of some person from whom he could elicit further information. There was only one servant in the house, the other domestics having gone to the funeral, and this servant, an elderly woman, was at length attracted by the sight of a stranger strolling this way and that, without any definite purpose--and, therefore, for a bad one. She stood in the doorway, gazing at him. He approached and addressed her. "I am looking for Gabriel Carew's house," he said. "This is it," the servant replied. "So I was directed, but was not sure, being a stranger in these parts. Is the master at home?" "No." "He lives here, doesn't he?" "He will presently; but it is only lately he came back with his wife, and has not yet taken up his residence." "His wife! Do you mean Doctor Louis's daughter?" "Yes. "Ah, they're married, then?" "Yes, they are married. You seem to know names, though you are a stranger." "Yes, I know names well enough. If Gabriel Carew is not here, where is he?" "It would be more respectful to say Mr. Carew," said the servant, resenting this familiar utterance of her master's name. "Mr. Carew, then. I'm not particular. Where is he?" "You will find him in the village." "That's a wide address." "He is stopping at Doctor Louis's house. Anybody will tell you where that is." "Thank you; I will go there." He was about to depart, but turned and said, "Where is the gardener, Martin Hartog?" "He left months ago." "Left, has he? Where for?" "I can't tell you." "Because you won't?" "Because I can't. You are a saucy fellow." "No, mistress, you're mistaken. It's my manner, that's all; I was brought up rough. And where I've come from, a man might as well be out of the world as in it." He accompanied this remark with a dare-devil shake of his head.