"He might have had a stitch in his side at the time, you know, and
wanted to cut it," explained MONTGOMERY. "At any rate, after that we
became wards of Mr. SCHENCK, up North here. And now let me ask you, sir,
is this Mr. EDWIN DROOD a student with you?"

"No. He is visiting his uncle, Mr. BUMSTEAD," answered the Gospeler, who
could not free his mind from the horrible thought that his young
companion's fearless sister might have been in some way acscissory to
the sudden cutting off of her step-father's career.

"Is Miss FLORA POTTS his sister?"

Mr. SIMPSON told the story of the betrothal of the young couple by their
respective departed parents.

"Oh, _that's_ the game, eh?" said MONTGOMERY. "I understand now his
whispering to me that he wished he was dead." In a moment afterwards
they re-entered the house in Gospeler's Gulch.

The air was slightly laden with the odor of cloves as they went into the
parlor, and Mr. BUMSTEAD was at the piano, accompanying the Flowerpot
while she sang. Executing without notes, and with his stony gaze fixed
intently between the nose and chin of the singer, Mr. BUMSTEAD had a
certain mesmeric appearance of controlling the words coming out of the
rosy mouth. Standing beside Miss POTTS was MAGNOLIA PENDRAGON, seemingly
fascinated, as it were, by the BUMSTEAD method of playing, in which the
performer's fingers performed almost as frequently upon the woodwork of
the instrument as upon the keys. Mr. PENDRAGON surveyed the group with
an arm resting on the mantel; Mr. SIMPSON took a chair by his maternal