he added, "it is neither white nor a church; it is an abandoned schoolhouse, gray with age and neglect. Religious services were once held in it when it—was white, and there is a graveyard that would delight a poet. Can you guess why I sent for you, and told you to come heeled?"
"Oh, I never have bothered you about things of that kind. I've always found you communicative when the time came. But if I may hazard a guess, you want me to help you arrest one of the corpses in the graveyard."
"You remember Branscom?" said Jaralson, treating his companion's wit with the inattention that it deserved.
"The chap who cut his wife's throat? I ought; I wasted a week's work on him and had my expenses for my trouble. There is a reward of five hundred dollars, but none of us ever got a sight of him. You don't mean to say——"
"Yes, I do. He has been under the noses of you fellows all the time. He comes by night to the old graveyard at the White Church."
"The devil! That's where they buried his wife."
