He was also said to have argued, when taken to task for this most untidy custom, that birds and animals never shifted their coats until they were worn out, and it behooved men to follow their innocent and natural habits as closely as possible.
Simon Basset, sitting in an old leather-cushioned arm-chair in the midst of the lounging throng, waited for applause after his conclusive opinion upon Abel Edwards's disappearance; but there were only affirmative grunts from a few.

Many had their own views.
"I ain't noways clear in my mind that Abel did kill himself," said a tall man, with a great length of thin, pale whiskers falling over his breast.

He had a vaguely elongated effect, like a shadow, and had, moreover, a way of standing behind people like one.

When he spoke everybody started and looked around at him.
"I'd like to know what you think did happen to him, Adoniram Judd," cried Simon Basset.
"I don't think Abel Edwards ever killed himself," repeated the tall man, solemnly.

His words had weight, for he was a distant relative of the missing man.
"Do you know of anybody that had anything agin him ?" demanded Simon Basset.
"No, I dun'no' 's I do," admitted the tall man.
"Then what in creation would anybody want to kill him for?
Guess they wouldn't be apt to do it for anything they would get out of Abel Edwards." Simon Basset chuckled triumphantly; and in response there was a loud and exceedingly bitter laugh from a man sitting on an old stool next to him.