e picked it up and held it for a moment
in his hands, smiling to himself with pleasure at its daintiness and
smallness, and yet still uneasily wondering why she had come here, and
why she had fled away again so quickly.

The morning was very fine and calm, though in the west heavy clouds were
gathering and seemed to promise rain soon. But overhead the sun shone
brightly, the air was calm and warm, and the little dell on whose verge
he stood a very pretty and pleasant place.

A small stream wandered through it, the grass that carpeted it was
green and soft, near by a great oak stood alone and spread its majestic
branches far out on every side to give cool shelter from the summer
heat.

The thought occurred to Dunn that this was just such a pretty and
secluded spot as two lovers might choose to exchange their vows in, and
the thought stung him intolerably as he wondered whether it was for such
a reason that Ella had come here.

But if so, why had she fled away again in such strange haste?

He walked on slowly for a yard or two, not now attempting to follow
Ella's trail, for he had the impression that this was her destination,
and that she had gone no further than here.

All at once he caught sight of the form of a man lying hidden in
the long grass that nearly covered him from view just where the
far-spreading branches of the great oak ceased to give their shade.

At first Dunn thought he was sleeping, and he was just about to call
out to him when something in the rigidity of the man's position and his
utter stillness struck him unpleasantly.

He went quickly to the man's side, and the face of dead John Clive,
supine and still, stared up at him from unseeing eyes.

He had been killed by a charge of small shot fired at such close
quarters that his breast was shot nearly in two and his clothing and
flesh charred by the burning powder.

But Dunn, standing staring down at the dead man, saw not him, but Ella.
Ella fleeing away silently and furtively through the trees as from some
sight or scene of guilt and terror.

He stooped closer over the dead man. Death had been instantaneous. Of
course there could be no doubt. From one hand a piece of folded paper
had fallen.

Dunn picked it up, and saw that there was writing on it, and he read it
over slowly.

"Dear Mr. Clive,--Can you meet me as before by the oak
tomorrow at eleven? There is something I very much want to
say to you.--Yours sincerely,