PART ONE




I


Late one fall afternoon, in the year 1898, a train paused for a moment
before crossing a bridge over a river. From it descended a heavy-set,
elderly man. The train immediately proceeded on its way.

The heavy-set man looked about him. The river and the bottom-land
growths of willow and hardwood were hemmed in, as far as he could see,
by low-wooded hills. Only the railroad bridge, the steep embankment of
the right-of-way, and a small, painted, windowless structure next the
water met his eye as the handiwork of man. The windowless structure was
bleak, deserted and obviously locked by a strong padlock and hasp.
Nevertheless, the man, throwing on his shoulder a canvas duffle-bag with
handles, made his way down the steep railway embankment, across a plank
over the ditch, and to the edge of the water. Here he dropped his bag
heavily, and looked about him with an air of comical dismay.

The man was probably close to sixty years of age, but florid and
vigorous. His body was heavy and round; but so were his arms and legs.
An otherwise absolutely unprepossessing face was rendered most
attractive by a pair of twinkling, humorous blue eyes, set far apart.
Iron-gray hair, with a tendency to curl upward at the ends, escaped from
under his hat. His movements were slow and large and purposeful.