And after supper she cleared away the service, and went to prepare a bed and light a fire in the room appropriated to Cloudy. And so the evening wore away. It grew late, yet neither Thurston nor Paul appeared. Cloudy began to think their return unseasonably delayed, and at eleven o'clock he took up his lamp to retire to his chamber, when he was startled and arrested by the barking of dogs, and by the rolling of the carriage into the yard, and in a few minutes the door was thrown violently open, and Paul Douglass, pale, haggard, convulsed and despairing, burst suddenly into the room. "Paul! Paul! what in the name of Heaven has happened?" cried Cloudy, starting up, surprised and alarmed by his appearance. "Oh, it has ended in his committal!--it has ended in his committal!--he is fully committed for trial!--he was sent off to-night to the county jail at Leonardtown, in the custody of two officers!" "Who is committed? What are you talking about, Paul?" said Cloudy, taking his hand kindly and looking in his face. These words and actions brought Paul somewhat to his senses. "Oh! you do not know!--you do not even guess anything about it, Cloudy! Oh, it is a terrible misfortune! Let me sit down and I will tell you!" And Paul Douglass threw himself into a chair, and in an agitated, nearly incoherent manner, related the circumstances that led to the arrest of Thurston Willcoxen for the murder of Marian Mayfield. When he had concluded the strange story, Cloudy started up, took his hat, and was about to leave the room, "Where are you going, Cloudy?" "To the stables to saddle my horse, to ride to Leonardtown this night!" "It is nearly twelve o'clock." "I know it, but by hard riding I can reach Leonardtown by morning, and be with Thurston as soon as the prison doors are opened. And I will ask you, Paul, to be kind enough to forward my trunks from the tavern at Benedict to Leonardtown, where I shall remain to be near Thurston as long as he needs my services." "God bless you, Cloudy! I myself wished to accompany him, but he would not for a moment hear of my doing so--he entreated me to return hither to take care of poor Fanny and the homestead." Cloudy scarcely waited to hear this benediction, but hurried to the stables, found and saddled his horse, threw himself into the stirrups, and in five minutes was dashing rapidly through the thick, low-lying forest stretching inland from the coast. Eight hours of hard riding brought him to the county seat. Just stopping long enough to have his horse put up at the best hotel and to inquire his way to the prison, he hurried thither. It was nearly nine o'clock, and the street corners were thronged with loungers conversing in low, eager tones upon the present all-absorbing topic of discourse--the astounding event of the arrest of the great preacher, the Rev. Thurston Willcoxen, upon the charge of murder.