The lawyer, noting his condition, undertook the leadership of affairs. Beckoning Mr. Goodenough into Mr. Ransom's room, he softly closed the door upon the many inquiring ears about, and, assuming the manner most likely to encourage the unsophisticated but straightforward looking man with whom he had to deal, quietly observed: "We hear that you met this morning a young girl going towards the Ferry. There is great reason why we should know just how this young girl looks. A lady disappeared from here last night, and though, from a letter she left behind her, we have every reason to believe that her body is somewhere in the river, yet we don't want to overlook the possibility of her having escaped alive in another direction. Can you describe the person you saw?" "Wa'al, I'm not much good at talk," was the embarrassed, almost halting reply. "I saw the gal and I remember just how she looked, but I couldn't put it into words to save my soul. She was pretty and chipper and walked along as if she was part of the mornin'; but that don't tell you much, does it? Yet I don't know what else to say. P'raps you could help me by asking questions." "We'll see. Was she light-complexioned? Yellow hair, you know, and blue eyes?" "No; I don't think she was. Not what I call light. My Sal's light; this gal wasn't like my Sal." "Dark, then, very dark, with a gipsy color and snapping black eyes?" "No, not that either. What I should call betweens. But more dark than light." Harper flashed a glance at Ransom before putting his next question. "What did she have on her head?" "Bless me if I can tell! It wasn't a sun-bonnet, nor was it slapped all over with ribbons and flowers like my darter's." "But she had some sort of hat on?" "Sartain. Did you think she was just running to the neighbors?" "But she wore no coat?" "I don't remember any coat." "Do you remember her frock?" "No, not exactly." "Don't you remember its color?" "No." "Wasn't it black? the skirt of it, at least?" "Black? Wa'al, I guess not. A gal of her age in black! No, she was as bright as the flowers in my wife's garden. Not a black thing on her. I should sooner think her clothes were red than black." Harper showed his surprise. "Not a black skirt?" he persisted. "No, sir'ee. I haven't much eye for fixin's but I've eye enough to know when a gal's dressed like a gal and not like some old woman." Harper's eye stole again towards Ransom.