"You're wrong there. A black hat with a weeper on it, and a coat, and a mourning hankercher was there--not me. Bury him, and toll his own bell for him, but for God's sake don't let any useful person catch their death of cold for him. Me and his mother--we'll mourn after our own fashion. Yes, her too: there are spirits moving here for the minute. In his empty room she was the night he finished it. Feeling about she was, as if she'd lost a threepenny piece in the bed-tick. I heard her. 'Let be!' I shouted from my chamber. 'The man's not there: he's dead--hanged hisself for love in the belfry. Go back where you come from. Belike he'll be there afore you, and, if not, they'll tell you where to seek him.'" He turned abruptly and went in; then as his brother, dazed and bewildered, was about to hurry homeward, the elder again emerged and called to him. "A word for your ear alone," he said as Nathan returned. "There's not much love lost between us, and never can be; but I thank you for coming to me to-day. I know you meant to do a kindly thing. My trouble hasn't blinded me. Trouble ban't meant to do that. Tears have washed many eyes into clear seeing, as never saw straight afore they shed 'em. I'm obliged to you. You've come to me in trouble, though well you know I don't like you. 'Twas a Christian thing and I shan't forget it of you. If ever you fall into trouble yourself, come to me, innkeeper." "'Twas worth my pains to hear that. God support you always, brother." But Humphrey had departed. Nathan drifted back and turned instinctively to Undershaugh rather than his own house. Darkness and concern homed there also; Cora had gone away to friends far from the village, and the Linterns all wore mourning for Mark. Priscilla met her landlord and he came into the kitchen and flung his hat on the table and sat down to warm himself by the fire. "God knows what's going to happen," he said. "The man's mind is tottering. Never such sense and nonsense was jumbled in a breath." After a pause he spoke again. "And poor old Susan's half mad too. An awful house of it. Nothing Humphrey may do will surprise me. But one blessed word he said, poor chap, though whether he knew what he was talking about I can't guess. He thanked me for coming to him in trouble--thanked me even gratefully and said he'd never forget it. That was a blessed thing for me to hear, at such a time." The emotional man shed tears and Priscilla Lintern ministered to him. CHAPTER XVII Humphrey Baskerville had sought for peace by many roads, and when the final large catastrophe of his life fell upon him, it found him treading a familiar path.