I trust that its public life is ended.

In spite of the most far-reaching search, the murderer of Colonel Gaylord was never found.

Radnor and I have always believed that he was lynched by a mob in West Virginia some two years later.

The description of the man tallied exactly with the appearance of the tramp my uncle had thrashed, and something he said in his ante-mortem statement, made us very sure of the fact.
Mose, until the time of his death, was an honored member of the household, but he did not long outlive the Colonel.

The memory of the tragedy he had witnessed seemed to follow him constantly; an unreasoning terror looked from his eyes, and he started and shivered at every sound.
The poor fellow had lost what few wits he had ever possessed, but the one rational gleam that stayed with him to the end, was his love for his old master.