As the man came up the steps, I pushed the dog behind my chair, telling him to be quiet. Carter rose and turned on the porch lamp. For a moment the light, after the dense darkness, blinded me. I wondered who could be coming to see Carter at this late hour. It was a very tall and an extremely thin man who accepted the chair which Carter pulled out. A man with a deep lined face and nervous shifting eyes. As he came over to the chair, I saw that he was wearing a clergyman's collar, though he did not look as calm as most of the clergymen I have seen. He proved to be Carter's next-door neighbor, and he told us he was on his way home when he heard the sound of our voices. As he talked, I could see that he was of a nervous, restless disposition, for his hands were never still, and he moved his feet in an uneasy manner. His voice was rather harsh, though the English he used was perfect. After the introductions had been acknowledged Carter said: “Woods is my next-door neighbor. He's been in England, Ranville.” The clergyman admitted that he had been in England many times. He changed the conversation at once by remarking: “I have just come from down town, and they are all excited over the murder of Mr. Warren. I did not know Warren very well, but it seems almost incredible a man of his position should have met with such a sudden death. Have they any idea who the guilty person is?” We all shook our heads, and then Carter went into a brief description of the finding of the body. The eyes of the minister grew larger as he went on, and I saw a horrified look sweep across his face. As I did not know many clergymen, I studied the man before me with interest. It was easy to see that he had a good education, and I wondered why he had buried himself in such a small country town. Long before Carter had finished I had decided that the minister was as nervous a man as I have ever met. His hands were never still, and his eyes were as uneasy as his hands. He said nothing until Carter mentioned the secretary, and then half rose as he burst forth: “Why, of all things,” came the rough high-pitched voice, “I know Mr. Warren's secretary very well. She comes to my church. You must know her also—Miss Harlan?” and he turned to Carter. Carter shook his head; then said he knew her by sight and that was all. He added she was a very fine-looking girl. “That's very true,” the minister eagerly replied. “She is not only a very fine-looking girl, but a very fine girl in all ways. It's absurd to think she knows anything about Mr. Warren's death. I saw her myself this afternoon.” The conversation for some reason lagged after this, and after a while the minister gave a glance at his watch, and then with a sudden exclamation rose saying it was late. We said “good night,” and he went down the steps and was lost to sight. After he was out of hearing Ranville asked: “How long have you taken up with clergymen, Carter?”