"Oh!" said Trenholme. Some habit of politeness, unnecessary here, kept
his exclamation from expressing the interest he instantly felt. In a
country where there are few men to die, even death assumes the form of
an almost agreeable change as a matter of lively concern. Then, after a
pause which both men felt to be suitable, "I suppose there is a special
rate for--that sort of thing, you know. I really haven't been here very
long. I will look it up. I suppose you have a certificate of death,
haven't you?"

Again Saul dressed his whiskers. His attention to them was his
recognition of the fact that Trenholme impressed him as a superior.

"I don't know about a certificate. You've heard of the Bates and Cameron
clearin', I s'pose; it's old Cameron that's dead"--again he nudged his
elbow coffinward--"and Mr. Bates he wrote a letter to the minister at
St. Hennon's."

He took the letter from his pocket as he spoke, and Trenholme perceived
that it was addressed in a legible hand and sealed.

"I fancy it's all right," said he doubtfully. He really had not any idea
what the railway might require before he took the thing in charge.

Saul did not make answer. He was not quite sure it was all right, but
the sort of wrongness he feared was not to be confided to the man into
whose care he desired to shove the objectionable burden.

"What did he die of?" asked the young man.