Mr. Reynolds. He ate little and seemed much excited. The talk ran on
crime, as it always did when he was around, and Mr. Holcombe quoted
Spencer a great deal--Herbert Spencer. Mr. Reynolds was impressed, not
knowing much beyond silks and the National League.

"Spencer," Mr. Holcombe would say--"Spencer shows that every
occurrence is the inevitable result of what has gone before, and
carries in its train an equally inevitable series of results. Try to
interrupt this chain in the smallest degree, and what follows? Chaos,
my dear sir, chaos."

"We see that at the store," Mr. Reynolds would say. "Accustom a lot of
women to a silk sale on Fridays and then make it toothbrushes. That's
chaos, all right."

Well, Mr. Holcombe came in that night about ten o'clock, and I told
him Ladley was back. He was almost wild with excitement; wanted to
have the back parlor, so he could watch him through the keyhole, and
was terribly upset when I told him there was no keyhole, that the
door fastened with a thumb bolt. On learning that the room was to
be papered the next morning, he grew calmer, however, and got the
paper-hanger's address from me. He went out just after that.

Friday, as I say, was very quiet. Mr. Ladley moved to the back parlor
to let the paper-hanger in the front room, smoked and fussed with
his papers all day, and Mr. Holcombe stayed in his room, which was
unusual. In the afternoon Molly Maguire put on the striped fur coat
and went out, going slowly past the house so that I would be sure to
see her. Beyond banging the window down, I gave her no satisfaction.