time with an old neighbor. Frank and Markham were also invited there to dinner.
They had just finished the meal. Frank was looking over a time-table and telling of a letter he had received from Darry Haven that morning, when there came a thundering knock at the front door.
"Frank," said Mrs. Ismond, in quite a startled tone, as her hostess opened the front door, "it is that man, Mr. Dorsett."
"Is the widow Ismond here?" demanded Dorsett's gruff tones.
"Mrs. Ismond is here, yes," replied her friend. "Won't you come in, sir?"
"No," sneered Dorsett, "short and sweet is my errand."
"What do you want of my mother, Mr. Dorsett?" demanded Frank, stepping to the open doorway.
"Oh, you're here, are you?" snarled Dorsett.
"Frank, do not have any words with him," spoke Mrs. Ismond, hastening to her son's side.
Dorsett stood outside. With him was a low-browed fellow whom Frank recognized as a chronic hanger-on about the village justice's place.
"I've come—with my deputy and witness, ma'am," announced Dorsett, "to inform you that
