"I don't believe I have any relations," I said. "I never heard of any. My father used to say that he was the last of his family." "But your mother? Surely you know some of her people?" "I have never even heard her speak of them," I answered shortly. "Strange! You don't happen to remember her maiden name, do you?" "I don't know that I ever heard it," I told him. I began to wish that Mr. Marx would choose some other topic of conversation. Doubtless, it was exceedingly kind of him to take so much interest in my affairs and his questions proceeded from perfectly genuine motives, but my inability to answer any of them was becoming a little embarrassing. "One more question I was going to ask you and it shall be the last," he said, as though divining my feeling. "Were you born here?" "I suppose so. I never heard that I was born anywhere else." There was another long silence and it seemed to me that Mr. Marx was very deep in thought. I was beginning to feel sleepy and, closing my eyes, I leaned right back among the soft, yielding cushions. It was one of the wildest and roughest nights of the year. Both the carriage-windows were streaming with raindrops, and we could hear the wind howling across the open country, and whistling mournfully among the leafless trees. We had accomplished about three-quarters of our journey and had just entered upon the blackest part of it. On either side of the road and running close up to it, without even the division of hedges, was a stretch of bare, open country, pleasant enough in summer time, but now a mere plain, on which were dotted about a few straggling plantations of sickly, stunted fir trees, among which the hurricane was making weird music. We were in the middle of this dreary region. Mr. Marx was still smoking his cigar, but with closed eyes, and was either dozing or deep in thought. I, with my share of the fur rug wrapped closely around my knees, was trying in vain to sleep--in vain, for my head was still in a whirl, after what had been for me such an exciting day. Exciting though it had been, however, its close was to be more so. Suddenly, without the least warning, we felt a sharp jerk, and heard the coachman calling out to his horses, who were plunging furiously. Mr. Marx and I both leaned forward, and, just as we did so, there was a tremendous crash of breaking glass, and, through the splintered carriage window, on the side nearest to him, came a heavy piece of rock, followed by a confused mass of stones and gravel and other débris.