Legs and Wyeth were present the next morning at the inquest. There was no visible excitement over the death of either. A small paragraph at the bottom of the back page of the morning paper reported the death, by stabbing, of a Negro woman; while a still smaller one made notice of the death, in an unusual manner, of the murderer. And so it was in Effingham. If one desired notoriety he had to do other than kill a Negro, or be killed by one. For such was soon forgotten among other and more unusual sensations. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN "_Thou Shalt Not Steal!_" During Wyeth's canvass among his people, he had become accustomed to regard men who indulged excessively in drinking, as a problematical feature. And when that same man gambled, in addition, and failed to keep his word or oath, he was not in the least surprised. And, moreover, when he became acquainted with a person who loved liquor, gambled likewise, and who did not struggle to secure a job, but was content to walk about in perfect peace, without any effort in that direction, he was not surprised if that person stole, in addition. The people he stopped with were, in a measure, secretive. That is, they did not always take the trouble to state where they purchased all they had about the house. He took meals with them occasionally, and saw them eating every day; and, although chicken was very high, exceedingly high in Effingham, they had it every day. The druggist, whose store was a block distant, had inquired of them, and made known the fact that Moore was indebted to him two fifty, but Wyeth paid little attention to this, since, during the warm afternoons, under the cool of the electric fan, he indulged in such reminiscences, and Wyeth knew almost everybody who owed the druggist anything, including Miss Palmer. Two robberies had occurred in less than two weeks at the place, and both were shrouded in mystery. The first had been explained away very reasonably. A window that was almost hid by vines had been left open, and through this, a "nigga," as they put it, had made his entrance and gotten away, carrying with him a suit of clothes belonging to one of the roomers, who kept himself pretty well soaked with liquor; this roomer happened to be employed at a wholesale liquor house, and was, therefore, able to drink with economy. Sam was his name, but he was not, however, the one who owned the L. & N. R.R. But Sam was an easy go-lucky and didn't care whether school kept or not; and, likewise, didn't make a big noise if something did crawl in through the window, and steal a new thirty-five dollar suit.