rsuaded her to go to bed right
away. And I stopped to take care of her."

In view of the fact that Mrs. Errol was never happier than when she had
someone to take care of, this seemed but natural, and Dot's
straightforward mind found nothing unusual in the story.

She remained for nearly an hour, chattering gaily upon a thousand topics.
She was always at her ease with Mrs. Errol.

At parting, the latter held her for a moment very closely. "Happy,
dearie?" she asked.

"Oh, ever so happy," said Dot, with warm arms round her friend's neck.

Mrs. Errol sighed a little, smiled and kissed her. "God keep you so,
child!" she said.

And Dot went forth again into the hazy summer sunshine with a vague
wonder if dear Mrs. Errol were quite happy too. Somehow she had not
liked to ask.

Her way lay over the shoulder of a hill, that same hill on which Sir
Giles Carfax had once wreaked his mad vengeance upon his enemy.

A mist lay along the valley, and Dot kept on the ridge as long as she
could. She was essentially a creature of sunshine.

She was obliged, however, at last to strike downwards, and with regret
she left the sunshine behind.

The moment it was out of her eyes she caught sight of something she had
not expected to see in the valley below her. It was not a hundred yards
away, but the mist rising from the marshy ground partially obscured it. A
dark object, curiously shapeless, that yet had the look of an animal, was
lying in a hollow, and over it bent the figure of a man.

Dot's heart quickened a little. Had there been an accident, she asked
herself? She hastened her steps and drew near.

As she did so, the man straightened himself suddenly, and turned round,
and instantly a thrill of recognition and of horror went through the
girl. It was Nap Errol, and the thing on the ground was his black mare.

She knew in a flash what had happened. Bertie had predicted disaster too
often for her not to know. A great wave of repulsion surged through her.
She was for the moment too horrified for speech.

Nap stood, erect, motionless, waiting for her. There was a terrible set
smile on his face like the smile on a death-mask. He did not utter a word
as she came up.

The mare was quite dead. The starting, bloodshot eyes were already
glazing. She lay in a huddled heap, mud-stained, froth-splashed, with
blood upon her flanks. White-faced and speechless, Dot stood and looked.
It was the first time that tragedy had ever touched he