w so near completion.

But his real reason was that he knew that if he came forward he would be
very closely questioned, and sooner or later forced to tell the things
he knew so terribly involving Ella.

And he knew that to surrender her to the police and proclaim her to the
world as guilty of such things were tasks beyond his strength; though,
to himself, with a touch of wildness in his thoughts, he said that
no proved and certain guilt should go unpunished even though his own
hand--It was a train of ideas he did not pursue.

"Charley Wright first and now John Clive," he said to himself. "But the
end is not yet."

Again he would not let his thoughts go on but checked them abruptly.

In this dark and troubled mood he went out to busy himself with the
garden, and all the time he worked he watched with a sort of vertigo of
horror where Ella sat in the sunshine by her mother's side, her white
hands moving nimbly to and fro upon her needlework.

It was not long, however, before the tragedy of the wood was discovered,
for Clive had been seen to go in that direction, and when he did not
return a search was made that was soon successful.

The news was brought to Bittermeads towards evening by a tradesman's
boy, who came up from the village to bring something that had been
ordered from there.

"Have you heard?" he said to Dunn excitedly. "Mr. Clive's been shot dead
by poachers."

"Oh--by poachers?" repeated Dunn.

"Yes, poachers," the boy answered, and went on excitedly to tell his
tale with many, and generally very inaccurate, details.

But that the crime had been discovered and instantly set down to
poachers was at least certain, and Dunn realized at once that the
adoption of this simple and apparently plausible theory would put an end
to all really careful investigation of the circumstances and make the
discovery of the truth highly improbable.

For the idea that the murder was the work of poachers would, when once
adopted, fill the minds of the police and of every one else, and no
suspicion would be directed elsewhere.

By the tremendous relief he felt, Dunn understood how heavy had been the
burden of fear and apprehension that till now had oppressed him.

If he had not found that handkerchief--if he had not secured that
letter--why, by now the police would be at Bittermeads.

"All the same," he thought. "No one who is guilty shall escape through
me."

But what this phrase meant, and what he intended to