I-II

It was a mountain surrey, with a top and rolled
curtains, three rigid seats, and drawn by ugly,
powerful horses in highly-simplified harness.
At the rear a number of mailbags, already coated
with a dun film, were securely strapped.

The driver lounged forward, skillfully picking
flies with his whip from the horses' backs. He had
a smooth countenance, deeply tanned, and pale, clear
blue eyes. At his side sat a priest in black, a man
past middle age, with ashen, embittered lips, and a
narrowed, chilling gaze. They were silent, contemplative;
but, from the seat behind them, flowed
a constant, buoyant, youthful chatter. A girl with
a shining mass of chestnut hair gathered loosely on
a virgin neck was recounting the thrilling incidents
of "commencement week" for the benefit of a heavily-built
young man with a handsome, masklike
countenance. On the last seat a carelessly-garbed
male was drawing huge clouds of smoke from a formidable
cigar.

Gordon Makimmon, the driver, did not know the
latter. He had engaged and paid for his seat the

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p010 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p011w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p012

v?