“I had just as lief get tangled in a wire fence as any other kind,” replied the angler with cheery pessimism, whipping his fly into a shaded spot where a trout would surely have been lurking if the entire _salmo_ family hadn’t departed for the Happy Fishing Grounds, several generations back, in consequence of the pernicious activities displayed by an acquisitive sportsman with an outfit of dynamite in sticks. “Suit yerself,” retorted the boy. “You won’t get nothin’, anyhow.” The rumble of a vehicle distracted his attention, and he looked up to observe with curiosity a carriage full of strangers pass across the bridge. The strangers were all in black. The angler had looked up, too; but immediately looked away again, and turned to continue his hopeful progress toward the bend. Not until he had rounded the curve did he pause for rest. Beyond sight of the youthful Izaak Walton, he waded out upon the bank, produced a glass, and applied it to his eyes, turning it upon the willow grove on the borders of the Blair estate. The briefest of surveys satisfied him, and he resumed his fishing and his waiting. He was waiting for the funeral service of Wilfrid Blair. Notices in the Boston and New York papers had formally designated the burial as “Private”. That invaluable aid, Lawyer Adam Bain, who seemed to have his fingers on the pulse of all the county’s activities, had informed Kent that telegraphic summons had gone out to a few near relatives, and that the relatives, together with a clergyman, were expected that morning. That is why Chester Kent, a famous master of the art of fly fishing, was whipping a “dead” stream. For a patient hour longer his questing flies explored unresponsive nooks and corners. At the end of that time he sighted a figure coming from Hedgerow House, and dodged into a covert of sumac. The glass brought out clearly the features of Alexander Blair, set, stern, and pale. Blair walked swiftly to the willow thicket where lay Captain Hogg and his unnamed victims, looked down into the raw fresh excavation, and turned away. Another man, issuing from the house, joined him. From his gestures Alexander Blair seemed to be explaining and directing. Finally both returned to the house. “Handling the whole business himself,” commented Kent. “I like his courage, anyway.”