Keeping in view the fact of the week’s concealment, my reader will
readily understand that I had no inducement to change my usual
habits, so far as the woods were concerned, and I consequently kept
up my visitations; but as the heat was growing daily more severe, I
did not stroll far from the house, but confined myself in the main
to the wood that reaches from the brook to the westward road in our
front. I avoided thus pretty much my former walks, which included all
that space lying between the flat bridge and the old gray rocks it
had been my intention to make a memorandum of. Now and then, when the
heat of the day had subsided, I went as far down as the stream; for
exceedingly cool and pleasant was it there, and quiet, too, in the
shady evenings. Sometimes I took my sketching apparatus, but oftener
went without it; but it seems that, however I might go, I was not to
do so without creating a terrible suspicion.
The search, prompted by public duty, or instigated by private
curiosity, had apparently worn itself out, when, upon a sweet
morning, some two weeks after the discovery of the bodies, I stepped
out of the front door, and saw, sitting under a shady tree in the
stable-yard, holding converse with my host’s father, a member of
the polician fraternity. Naturally enough, thought I, this vigilant
is wandering round to see what he can pick up of stray hints and
suggestions that may lead to the discovery of the criminal, and the
obtaining of the large rewards that had been tendered by public and
private liberality. I recognized the policeman at once, having often
rode in the car on Tremont Street which he conducted. Circumstances
then induced quite an acquaintance of great kindness between us.
He had been left for dead after one of the great battles in the
Chickahominy, slaughtered by four or five bullets of the Southern
rifles, but picked up and cured, and fated in after days to have the
high prerogative of being put upon my track as one of, if not the
bloody villain of all, concerned in the killing of the Joyce children.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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