“Well, Cæsar or Crœsus; both were rich, I do suppose, and General Wilton was thought the equal of either; but, when he died, his estate wouldn’t pay his debts. On the other hand, old Davy Davidson was set down by nobody at more than twenty thousand, and he left ten times that much money. So I say nobody knows. Mrs. Goodwin was always a saving woman, though Peter would make the dollars fly, if he could get at them. There was certainly a weak spot in Peter, though known to but a very few.” Dunscomb now listened attentively. Every fact of this nature was of importance just then; and nothing could be said of the murdered couple that would not induce all engaged in the cause to prick up their ears. “I have always understood that Peter Goodwin was a very respectable sort of a man,” observed Dunscomb, with a profound knowledge of human nature, which was far more likely to induce the woman to be communicative, in the way of opposition, than by any other process—“as respectable a man as any about here.” “So he might be, but he had his weak points as well as other respectable men; though, as I have said already, his’n wasn’t generally known. Everybody is respectable, I suppose, until they’re found out. But Peter is dead and gone, and I have no wish to disturb his grave, which I believe to be a sinful act.” This sounded still more ominously, and it greatly increased Dunscomb’s desire to learn more. Still he saw that great caution must be used, Mrs. Horton choosing to affect much tenderness for her deceased neighbour’s character. The counsellor knew human nature well enough to be aware that indifference was sometimes as good a stimulant as opposition; and he now thought it expedient to try the virtue of that quality. Without making any immediate answer, therefore, he desired the attentive and anxious Anna Updyke to perform some little office for him; thus managing to get her out of the room, while the hostess stayed behind. Then his segar did not quite suit him, and he tried another, making divers little delays that set the landlady on the tenter-hooks of impatience. “Yes, Peter is gone—dead and buried—and I hope the sod lies lightly on his remains!” she said, sighing ostentatiously. “Therein you are mistaken, Mrs. Horton,” the counsellor coolly remarked—“the remains of neither of those found in the ruins of the house are under ground yet; but are kept for the trial.” “What a time we shall have of it!—so exciting and full of mystery!” “And you might add ‘custom,’ Mrs. Horton. The reporters alone, who will certainly come from town like an inroad of Cossacks, will fill your house.” “Yes, and themselves too. To be honest with you, ’Squire Dunscomb, too many of those gentry wish to be kept for nothing to make them pleasant boarders. I dare say, however, we shall be full enough next week. I sometimes wish there was no such thing as justice, after a hard-working Oyer and Terminer court.”