"
Inquiries had been made for some time as to who the unknown executor,
Duff Salter, might be, when one day Rev. Mr. Van de Lear walked over to
the Zane house with a broad-shouldered, grave, silent-eyed man, who wore
a very long white beard reaching to his middle. As he was also tall and
but little bent, he had that mysterious union of strength and age which
was perfected by his expression of long and absolute silence.
"Agnes," said Mr. Van de Lear, "this is an old Scotch-Irish friend and
classmate of the late Mr. Zane, Duff Salter of Arkansas. He cannot hear
what I have said, for he is almost stone deaf. However, go through the
motions of shaking hands. I am told he has heard very little of anything
for the past ten years. An explosion in a quicksilver mine broke his
ear-drums."
Agnes, dressed in deep black, shook hands with the grave stranger
dutifully, and said:
"I am sure you are welcome, sir."
Mr. Salter looked at her closely and gently, and seemed to be pleased
with the inspection, for he took a small gold box from his pocket,
unlocked it and sniffed a pinch of snuff, and then gave a sneeze, which
he articulated, plain as speech, into the words: "Jericho! Jericho!"
Then placing the box in the pocket of his long coat, he remarked:
"Miss Agnes, as one of the executors is a lady, and another is our
venerable friend here, who has no inclination to attend to the
settlement of Mr.
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