He was followed by the keeper of a small ordinary upon the main road, halfway between the ford and Red Fields. "No, sir, Mr. Ludwell Cary didn't travel by the main road. I sat in my door with my glass and my pipe almost the whole day--until after the storm broke, anyhow. There wasn't any custom--folk seemed to know it was going to rain like Noah's flood. There was hardly anybody on the road after about ten. Yes, I might have shut my eyes now and then, though I don't doze over my pipe and glass half as much as some people say I do. Anyhow, Mr. Ludwell Cary didn't ride that way--events prove that, don't they, sir? Yes, I remember well enough when Mr. Rand passed. I wasn't dozing then, for the negro boy spoke to me, said there was going to be a big storm. It must have been after midday, Mr. Rand?" "Yes, something after midday." The witness knew, for he always had his glass at noon. He might have been dozing when the negro spoke to him, but he spoke plain enough. "'It's going to be an awful storm,' he said, and then I believe you said something, sir, though I don't remember what it was, and you both rode on. I wasn't that sleepy that I couldn't see straight. That's all that I know, Mr. Galt." Two or three other witnesses were called, but they were of the main road, and the main road had nothing to show further than that it had been travelled upon by Lewis Rand and his negro boy. They had not seen Mr. Ludwell Cary since he rode to Richmond early in the summer. Yes, they were sure they had seen Mr. Rand and his negro boy--but the clouds were dark, and the dust blowing so that you had to hold your head down, and people were thinking of getting indoors. The boy was riding a mare with a white foot. "I think we can leave the main road, gentlemen," declared the coroner. "Now the river road and the stream where this thing was done--" Indian Run--where did Indian Run come from or lead to, and who might have been upon that lonely road, or lurking in the laurel and hemlock that clothed the banks of the stream? Three miles up the water was a camping-ground used by gypsies; at a greater distance down the stream a straggling settlement of poor whites, long looked at askance by the county. It might be that some wandering gypsy, some Ishmaelite with a grudge--The enquiry turned again to Fairfax Cary. "When you went on, Mr. Cary, from Elm Tree, you too supposed that your brother would follow by the same road? You thought--" "I did not think at all," answered Cary harshly. "I was lost in my own self and my own concerns. I was a selfish and heedless wretch, and I hurried away without a thought or care. What he told me I forgot at the time. But I have remembered it since. He told me that he would take the river road." "And on your own way home you repeated that to no one?" "To no one. I never spoke of him, I do not know that I ever thought of him from Elm Tree to Greenwood. Oh, my brother!"