All voices had sunk to a whisper, and if by chance a figure passed one of the windows, it was in a hurried, frightened way, which Sweetwater felt very ready to appreciate.
In the stable it was no better.

Zadok had bought an evening paper, and was seeking solace from its columns.

Sweetwater had attempted the sociable but had been met by a decided rebuff.

The coachman could not forget his attitude before the funeral and nothing, not even the pitcher of beer the detective proposed to bring in, softened the forbidding air with which this old servant met the other's advances.
Soon Sweetwater realised that his work was over for the night and planned to leave.

But there was one point to be settled first.