the left, and kept on his course until he reached
the next corner. After another turn to the right,
a dozen paces brought him in front of a small
weather-beaten frame building, from which projected
a wooden sign-board bearing the inscription:--

ARCHIBALD STRAIGHT,
LAWYER.

He turned the knob, but the door was locked.
Retracing his steps past a vacant lot, the young
man entered a shop where a colored man was
employed in varnishing a coffin, which stood on two
trestles in the middle of the floor. Not at all
impressed by the melancholy suggestiveness of his
task, he was whistling a lively air with great gusto.
Upon Warwick's entrance this effusion came to a
sudden end, and the coffin-maker assumed an air
of professional gravity.

"Good-mawnin', suh," he said, lifting his cap
politely.

"Good-morning," answered Warwick. "Can
you tell me anything about Judge Straight's office
hours?"

"De ole jedge has be'n a little onreg'lar sence
de wah, suh; but he gin'ally gits roun' 'bout ten
o'clock er so. He's be'n kin' er feeble fer de las'