Those who had known him longest had the least notion; but it may be added that no one knew him well.

He was a lawyer, and had lived in Octavius for upwards of ten years; that is to say, since early manhood.

He had an office on the main street, just under the principal photograph gallery.

Doubtless he was sometimes in this office; but his fellow-townsmen saw him more often in the street doorway, with the stairs behind him, and the flaring show-cases of the photographer on either side, standing with his hands in his pockets and an unlighted cigar in his mouth, looking at nothing in particular.

About every other day he went off after breakfast into the country roundabout, sometimes with a rod, sometimes with a gun, but always alone.