About nine o'clock a dark figure approached the toll-gate afoot. It was a man, and he came from the night somewhere to the east, probably from the village of Glenville. There was no mistaking his identity. The heavy, swift tread told the watchers that it was 'Gene Crawley long before he came within the radius of light that shot through the open doorway. Someone in the crowd called out:
"H' are ye, 'Gene! Thought you'd be up to the weddin'."
'Gene did not reply. He strode up to the porch and threw himself