weathercock, and there were besides many architectural surprises in the form of cornices and quaint windows, which delighted the eye. The house had the usual accompaniment of houses in the suburbs, a large garden, which sloped down to the banks of the river. In the rear of the house stood the stable. At this moment the owner was delivering a stern rebuke to a villainous-looking groom.
Dr. Chenoweth was a large man, having the Flemish cast of features, with fair hair and blue eyes. His strong, plain face was smooth-shaven. There was unity in his simple face, his resolute expression and his searching yet kind eyes. The man and his mission were eminently harmonious. To serve his fellow men had ever been his purpose. Much of his service had been gratuitous, and although a man past the meridian of life, he was far from being in affluent circumstances.
“Maurits,” he was saying, “this is the third time within as many weeks that you have been carousing at the Golden Lion. I can stand it no longer. You quit my service to-day.”
With these stern words he paid the groom and discharged him. Had he seen the look of hatred which crossed Maurits' face the doctor might not have so quickly banished the episode from his mind. His attention was diverted by the sudden appearance of his son.
“Ah, Conrad, my boy,” said the doctor, stretch-
