Yet Maude had suggested that Sarah return to New York. Maude could have shot Emile -- if she'd had a reason to kill him.

There was no use in standing there in the drizzle, trying to find a link between Emile's murder and opium in a cup of coffee.

She started back for the house, saw a light in the office, opened the door and surprised a domestic little scene which was far outside the dark realm of murder or attempted murder. Rev, George and Lolotte were mending shoes.

a lighted lamp stood on the table that dusky, drizzling day. They were all three bent over a shabby riding boot; George had a tack hammer. Lolotte held a patch of leather, Rev steadied something, a tiny brad, waiting for George's poised hammer. George said, ``First thing I do when I get to Vicksburg again, is get me a Yankee'' --

``With boots on,'' Lolotte laughed softly.

Rev looked up and saw her. Lolotte looked up and stiffened. George didn't look up at all. There was no way to know, no way to guess whether any one of them was surprised at Sarah's appearance, believing her to be drugged and senseless -- and just possibly dead.

Rev said, ``Come in, Sarah. Reckon you know the news.''

And what news, Sarah thought as satirically as Maude might have said it.

Rev's face was suddenly a little fixed and questioning. He turned to George and Lolotte. ``Take your cobbler's shop somewhere else. I want to talk to Sarah.''