CHAPTER XXX. THE FUNERAL. Very early the next morning crowds of people were making their way to the Percy Cottage, which was soon filled to its utmost capacity. The yard, also, was full, and the sidewalk; those on the outer edge speaking together in low tones, as if saying what they ought not to say and afraid of being heard. Somebody had talked, and there were strange rumors afloat. A few whispered them to each other under ban of secrecy, while others discussed them more openly and stamped them a lie, or, at least, something which would be explained when Jack was buried. Miss Hansford was late at the funeral and held her head high in the air as she made her way through the crowd, which fell apart to let her pass and stared at her as if she were a stranger. Her name was mixed with the rumors and the revolver, which, it was said, she had found and secreted and those in the secret would not have been surprised to have seen Max Allen, the constable, who was present, place his hand on her shoulder as she pushed past him into the house. Paul was one of the chief mourners, sitting with Mrs. Percy and Clarice, his face pale and tired, but wearing no look of guilt and meeting the curious eyes around him fearlessly. All his thoughts were centered on Clarice and the dead man lying in his coffin, with so many flowers heaped around him that they seemed a mockery to those who believed he had taken his own life. Mrs. Percy and Clarice were draped in crape, and the grief of the latter was not feigned as she looked her last upon the brother to whom she had never been very kind. Paul walked between the two to the carriage when the services were over and followed them into it unmolested. Had he been stopped there were those present ready to do battle for him and rescue him, for, as yet, the rumors were only rumors, which needed verifying. Judge Ralston and his wife were to accompany Mrs. Percy and Clarice to Washington. They had heard nothing. No one in the household had heard anything, except Tom Drake, who was in a white heat of anger as he drove behind the hearse and then acted as body guard to the mourners, seeing them on to the boat and keeping close to Paul until the last possible moment, as if fearing harm might come to him. Elithe did not attend the funeral. She had scarcely been more tired when she reached the end of her journey from the Rockies than she was that morning, and, had she wished to go, her aunt would not have allowed it. “Lock the doors and don’t let anybody in,” Miss Hansford said to her, and Elithe obeyed.