The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1911-05-24

A The ceremonies had been set for 5 o'clock, and it was now half past 2. As Sweetwater reached the head of the driveway he saw the first of a long file of carriages approaching up the street
 Lucky that my business takes me to the stable," thought he. What is the coachman's name? I ought to re- member it. An! Zadok-Zadok Brown. There's combination for your'
 He had reached this point in his soliloquy-a bad habit of his, for it sometimes took audible expression when he ran against another police man set to guard the side door. A moments barley and he left this man behind, but not before he had noted this door and the wide and hospitable veranda which separated it from the driveway.
 "1 am willing to go all odds that I teresting part of the house." he re- marked in quiet conviction to himself as he noted its nearness to the stable and the ease with which one could step from it into a vehicle passing down the driveway
 It had another point of interest, or, rather, the wing had to which it was attached. AS his eye travelled back across this wing in his lively walk toward the stable he caught a pass ing glimpse of nurses face and fig ure in one of its upper windows.
 Once around the corner, he perceiv- ed that the stable door was closed, but that window well up the garden side was open. Encountering no watchful eye, he stepped up to the stable window and peered in.
 A man sat with his back to him pol ishing bit of harness. This was prob ably Zadok, the coachman. Sweetwa- ter suddenly experienced momenta- ry confusion by observing the head aud shoulders of Policeman Hexford leaning toward him from an opposite window-in much the same fashion and certainly with exactly the same intent as himself. As their glances crossed both flushed and drew back, only to return again, each to his sever al peephole. Neither meant to lose the advantage of the moment. Both had heard of the gray horse and wish ed to identify it.
 There were three stalls, and in each stall a horse stamped and fidgeted. Only one held their attention. This was a mare on the extreme left, a large gray animal with curious black patch on it's near shoulder. The faces of both men changed as they recog nized this distinguishing mark, and in stinctively their eyes met. The coach man rubbed away with less and less purpose until his hands stood quite still and his whole figure dropped in irresistible dependency. As he raised his face, moved perhaps by that sense of a watchful presence to which all of us are more or less susceptible, they . were both surprised to see tears on it. The next instant he had started to his feet and the bit of harness had rattied from his hands to the floor.
 ''Who are you?' he asked, with a touch of anger quite natural under the circumstances. Cant you come in by the door and not creep sneaking up to take a man at disadvantagef"
 As he spoke he dashed away the tears with which his cheeks were still wet
 'T thought heap of my young mis- t-ess," he added in evident apology for this display of what such men call weakness. 'I didn't know that it was in me to cry for anything. but find that can cry for her."
 Hexford left his window, and Sweet water slid from his Next minute they met at the stable door.
 "Had luckT whispered the local of fcer.
 Enough to bring me here" acknowi edged the other.
 tDo you mean to this house or to this stable?'
 ''To this stable"
 "Have you heard that the horse was out that night?''
 "Yes; she was out"
 "Who driving2"
 "Ah, that's the question:
 "This man can't tell you"
 ~But I'm going to talk to him for all that"
 "He wasn't here that night. He was at dance. He only knows that the mare was out"
 "But I'm going to talk to him."
 May come in too? I'll not inter rupt I've Just fifteen minutes to spare"
 Hexford threw open the stable door, and they both walked in. The coach man was not visible, but they could hear him moving above, grumbling to himself.
 "I'n be down in a minute" he called out as their steps sounded on the hard wood floor.
 Hexford sauntered over to the stalls. Sweetwater stopped near the doorway and glanced very carefully about him. Nothing seemed to escape his eye. He even took the trouble to peer into a waste bin and was just on the point of lifting down a bit of broken bottle from an open cupboard when Brown appeared dressed in his Sunday coat and carrying a bunch of fresh hot house roses.
 "Who's that manT he grunted to Hexford.