He picked up and exposed to view a small object which he saw lying on the hall floor.  It was a small pin of shell and silver, such as ladies sometimes used for fastening the hair.

“Somehow, I got the idea you was a bachelor man,” went on the Honorable William cheerfully.  “Thought you lived here all alone in solitary splenjure; never looked at a woman in your whole life in the whole memory of man.  But, looky-here, now, what’s this?”

Dunwody, suddenly confused, could only wonder whether his face showed what he really felt.  His guest continued his investigation.

“An’ looky-there on the table!” pointing, where some servant apparently had placed, yet another article of ladies’ apparel, dropped by accident, a dainty glove of make such as no servant of that country ever saw, much less used.  “Come now,” blithely went on the gentleman from Belmont.  “Things is lookin’ mighty suspicious, mighty suspicious.  Why didn’t you tell us when you-all was married?”

A sudden start might have drawn attention to Judge Clayton, but he controlled himself.  And if a slight smile assailed his lips, at least he was able to suppress it.  Nothing, however, could suppress the curiosity of the able student of Roman history.  “I’ll just take a little prowl around,” said he.

He was rewarded in his search.  A little hair-pin lay at the first step of the stair.  He fell upon it with uproarious glee.

“Trail’s gittin’ hot,” said he.  “I reckon I’ll go on up.”

“No!” cried Dunwody suddenly, and sprang to the foot of the stair.  “Please!—­that is,—­” he hesitated.  “If you will kindly wait a moment, I will have the servants put your room in order for you before you go up.”

“Oho!” cried the Honorable William.  “Don’t want us to find out a single thing!  House o’ mystery, ah, ha!  Doctor here, too!  Tell us, anybody died here to-day?”

Doctor Jamieson answered by quietly stepping to the side of Dunwody.  Judge Clayton, without comment, joined them, and the three edged in between the exhilarated gentleman and the stairway which he sought to ascend.

“I was just saying, gentlemen,” remarked Judge Clayton quietly, “that I was sure it would give us all much pleasure to take a stroll around these beautiful grounds with Colonel Dunwody.”

He looked Dunwody calmly in the eye, and the latter knew he had a friend.  He knew perfectly well that Judge Clayton did not for an instant suppose that these articles ever had belonged to any servant.  On the contrary; it was possible he remembered where and in whose possession he had seen them before.  But nothing more was said about the beautiful young lady of the Mount Vernon.

“You have a beautiful place here, Colonel Dunwody, beautiful!” said Clayton carelessly, casting an arm over the other’s shoulders and leading the way to the front door.  “It reminds me of our old family home back in Virginia.  Come, gentlemen; let us have a more careful look at so well-chosen a locality.  It is improved—­improved, gentlemen, as well as it originally was chosen.  But look at those hills!”