The attention of the two was now diverted by the sound of a rapidly driven horse being brought to an abrupt standstill, and both paused to listen. Presently the front gate clanged, and an approaching dim figure finally resolved itself into the ponderous form of the Coroner.
"Bless my soul! Captain Converse!" he cried, as soon as he recognized the Captain. "Here we are together again. This is dreadful—dreadful, isn't it?" After he had given expression to his feelings at some length in a similar strain, the Captain saw an opportunity to interrupt.
"Mr. Merkel, you must let me run this thing for a while."
The other looked blank.
"Oh, all I desire is a day or two unhampered—" Converse paused, tentatively.
"Well—er—ah—as to that," returned the Coroner, in his important, official manner,—"as to that, John, I cannot commit myself to act against my better judgment."
"I should say not!" exclaimed Converse, apparently amazed at the implication that he could harbor such a thought.
"It is my desire, of course," the other went on, with a comical, heavy air of patronage that made McCaleb confide a thin-lipped smile to the darkness, "that we work together in perfect harmony; I wish to aid to the extent of my powers; but there are responsibilities attaching to my office; there are responsibilities—"
"To be sure there are," Converse interrupted with prompt acquiescence; "and with your permission, I will assume them entirely. Now, what I want is, that you will not act at all for a while. Of course you will not. Delay the inquest for a day or two, and I will show you some things that will astonish you."
"Very well," responded Mr. Merkel, after a moment of gravid deliberation; "I agree to be guided by you for the present—within certain limits, of course,—unless my better judgment—"