While I mused thus, the bar-room door opened, and a man past the prime of life, with a somewhat florid face, which gave a strong relief to the gray, almost white hair that, suffered to grow freely, was pushed back, and lay in heavy masses on his coat collar, entered with a hasty step.  He was almost venerable in appearance; yet there was in his dark, quick eyes the brightness of unquenched loves, the fires of which were kindled at the altars of selfishness and sensuality.  This I saw at a glance.  There was a look of concern on his face, as he threw his eyes around the bar-room; and he seemed disappointed, I thought, at finding it empty.

“Is Simon Slade here?”

As I answered in the negative, Mrs. Slade entered through the door that opened from the yard, and stood behind the counter.

“Ah, Mrs. Slade!  Good evening, madam!” he said.

“Good evening, Judge Hammond.”

“Is your husband at home?”

“I believe he is,” answered Mrs. Slade.  “I think he is somewhere about the house.”

“Ask him to step here, will you?”

Mrs. Slade went out.  Nearly five minutes went by, during which time Judge Hammond paced the floor of the bar-room uneasily.  Then the landlord made his appearance.  The free, open, manly, self-satisfied expression of his countenance, which I had remarked on alighting from the stage in the afternoon, was gone.  I noticed at once the change, for it was striking.  He did not look steadily into the face of Judge Hammond, who asked him, in a low voice, if his son had been there during the evening.

“He was here,” said Slade.

“When?”

“He came in some time after dark and stayed, maybe, an hour.”

“And hasn’t been here since?”

“It’s nearly two hours since he left the bar-room,” replied the landlord.

Judge Hammond seemed perplexed.  There was a degree of evasion in Slade’s manner that he could hardly help noticing.  To me it was all apparent, for I had lively suspicions that made my observation acute.

Judge Hammond crossed his arms behind him, and took three or four strides about the floor.

“Was Judge Lyman here to-night?” he then asked.

“He was,” answered Slade.

“Did he and Willy go out together?”

The question seemed an unexpected one for the landlord.  Slade appeared slightly confused, and did not answer promptly.

“I—­I rather think they did,” he said, after a brief hesitation.

“Ah, well!  Perhaps he is at Judge Lyman’s.  I will call over there.”

And Judge Hammond left the bar-room.

“Would you like to retire, sir?” said the landlord, now turning to me, with a forced smile—­I saw that it was forced.

“If you please,” I answered.

He lit a candle and conducted me to my room, where, overwearied with the day’s exertion, I soon fell asleep, and did not awake until the sun was shining brightly into my windows.