nctly some distance ahead of her. The sky was clear;
there was just enough wind to rustle the leaves of the trees. Now and
then in some farmyard a cock would crow or a dog bark, but no other
sounds broke the stillness of the night.

The girl knew now where Old Swallowtail was bound. At the end of this
lane lay his five acres of stones, and he was about to visit it. The
fact gave her a queer little thrill of the heart, for a dozen strange
fancies crossed her mind in rapid succession. If he had really killed
Ned Joselyn, it was probable he had buried the man in this neglected
place, amongst the rubble of stones. Josie had inspected every foot of
ground on the Kenton Place and satisfied herself no grave had been dug
there. Indeed, at the time of Joselyn's "disappearance" the ground had
been frozen so hard that the old man could not have dug a grave.
Perhaps after a night or two he had dragged the corpse here and covered
it with stones. It would be a safe hiding-place.

And now regret for his act drove the murderer here night after night to
watch over the secret grave.

Or, granting that the supposed crime had not been committed, might not
Mr. Cragg have discovered some sort of mineral wealth in his
stone-yard, which would account for his paying taxes on the place and
visiting it so often? Or did he simply love the solitude of the dreary
waste where, safe from prying eyes, he could sit among the rocky
boulders and commune with himself beneath the moonlit sky?

Such conjectures as these occupied the girl's mind while she stealthily
"shadowed" the old man along the lane. Never once did he look behind
him, although she was prepared to dissolve from view instantly, had he
done so. And at last the end of the lane was reached and he climbed the
rail fence which separated it from the valley of stones.

Josie saw him suddenly pause, motionless, as he clung to the rails. She
guessed from his attitude that he was staring straight ahead of him at
something that had surprised him. A full minute he remained thus before
he let himself down on the other side and disappeared from view.

The girl ran lightly forward and, crouching low, peered through the
bars of the fence. Half a dozen paces distant the old man stood among
the stones in a silent paroxysm of rage. He waved his long arms in the
air, anon clenching his fists and shaking them at some object beyond
him. His frail old body fluttered back and forth, right and left, as if
he