day, and possibly being influenced by what he had heard of the
yearly vigils Mr. Moore was in the habit of keeping there, had taken
a notion to stroll among the graves, in search of the rest and peace
of mind he had failed to find in his aimless walks about the city.
At least, that was the way he chose to account for the meeting he
mentioned. Falling into reverie again, he seemed to be trying to
recall the name which at this moment was of such importance to him.
But it was without avail, as he presently acknowledged.

"I can not remember who it was. My brain is whirling, and I can
recollect nothing but that this man and myself left the cemetery
together on the night mentioned, just as the gate was being closed.
As it closes at sundown, the hour can be fixed to a minute. It was
somewhere near seven, I believe; near enough, I am sure, for it to
have been impossible for me to be at the Moore house at the time my
unhappy wife is supposed to have taken her life. There is no doubt
about your believing this?" he demanded with sudden haughtiness, as,
rising to his feet, he confronted us in all the pride of his
exceptionally handsome person.

"We wish to believe it," assented the coroner, rising in his turn.
"That our belief may become certainty, will you let us know, the
instant you recall the name of the man you talked with at the
cemetery gate? His testimony, far more than any word of yours, will
settle this question which otherwise may prove a vexed one."

Mr. Jeffrey's hand went up to his head. Was he acting a part or
did he really forget just what it was for his own best welfare to
remember? If he had forgotten, it argued that he was in a state of
greater disturbance on that night than would naturally be occasioned