And so the evening wore away.
It grew late, yet neither Thurston nor Paul appeared. Cloudy began to
think their return unseasonably delayed, and at eleven o'clock he took
up his lamp to retire to his chamber, when he was startled and arrested
by the barking of dogs, and by the rolling of the carriage into the
yard, and in a few minutes the door was thrown violently open, and Paul
Douglass, pale, haggard, convulsed and despairing, burst suddenly into
the room.
"Paul! Paul! what in the name of Heaven has happened?" cried Cloudy,
starting up, surprised and alarmed by his appearance.
"Oh, it has ended in his committal!--it has ended in his committal!--he
is fully committed for trial!--he was sent off to-night to the county
jail at Leonardtown, in the custody of two officers!"
"Who is committed? What are you talking about, Paul?" said Cloudy,
taking his hand kindly and looking in his face.
These words and actions brought Paul somewhat to his senses.
"Oh! you do not know!--you do not even guess anything about it, Cloudy!
Oh, it is a terrible misfortune! Let me sit down and I will tell you!"
And Paul Douglass threw himself into a chair, and in an agitated, nearly
incoherent manner, related the circumstances that led to the arrest of
Thurston Willcoxen for the murder of Marian Mayfield.
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