By the way, I heard the other day that "Brans-
com" was not his real name.'
'What is?'
'I can't recall it. I had lost all interest in the
wretch. and it did not fix itself in my memory--
something like Pardee. The woman whose throat he
had the bad taste to cut was a widow when he met
her. She had come to California to look up some
relatives--there are persons who will do that some-
times. But you know all that.'
'Naturally.'
'But not knowing the right name, by what happy
inspiration did you find the right grave? The man
who told me what the name was said it had been cut
on the headboard.'
'I don't know the right grave.' Jaralson was ap-
parently a trifle reluctant to admit his ignorance of
so important a point of his plan. 'I have been watch-
ing about the place generally. A part of our work
this morning will be to identify that grave. Here is
the White Church.'
For a long distance the road had been bordered by
fields on both sides, but now on the left there was a
forest of oaks, madronos, and gigantic spruces whose
lower parts only could be seen, dim and ghostly in
the fog. The undergrowth was, in places, thick, but
nowhere impenetrable. For some moments Holker
saw nothing of the building, but as they turned into
the woods it revealed itself in faint grey outline
through the fog, looking huge and far away. A few
steps more, and it was within an arm's length, dis-
tinct, dark with moisture, and insignificant in size.
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