ut then Carfax was mixed up with so many ruffians of one kind and
another. It may have been revenge or any-thing. I believe they are
searching the wood now, but they're not likely to bring it home to
any one. Misty day, no one about, and the man simply used his fist
apparently--he must have been most awfully strong. Have you ever heard
of any one killing a man with one blow--except a prize-fighter?"

"It's simply a knack, I believe, if you catch a fellow in a certain
spot."

Supposing that some wretched tramp were arrested and accused? Some dirty
fellow from behind a hedge? All the tramps, all the ruffians of the
world were now a danger. The accusation of another would bring the truth
from him of course. His dark eyes moved across the room to Craven's
white, tired face. Within himself there moved now with every hour
stirring more acutely this desire for life. If only they would let him
alone . . . let the body alone . . . let it all alone. Let the world
sink back to its earlier apathy.

His voice was resentful.

"Carfax wasn't a good fellow, Craven. No, I know--_Nil nini bonum_ . . .
and all the rest of it. But it looks a bit like a judgment--judgment
from Heaven."

Craven broke in.

"But now--just now when his body's lying there. I know there were things
he did. He was a bit wild, of course----"

"Yes, there was a girl, a girl in Midgett's tobacconist's shop--his
daughter. Carfax ruined her, body and soul . . . ruined her. He boasted
of it. Looks like a judgment."

"I don't care." Craven sprang up. "Carfax may have done things, but he
was a friend of mine, and a good friend. They _must_ catch the man, they
_must_. It's a duty they owe us all. To have such a man as that hanging
about. Why, it might happen to any of us. You must help me, Dune."

"Help you?"

"Yes--help them to catch the murderer. We must think of everything that
could make a clue. Perhaps this girl. I _had_ heard something about her,
of course; but perhaps there was another lover, a rival or something, or
perhaps her father----"

"Well," Dune said slowly, "my advice to you, Craven, is not to think too
much about the whole business. A thing like that is certain to get on
one's nerves--leave it alone as much as you can----"

"What a funny chap you are! You're always like that. As detached from
everything as though you weren't alive at all. Why, I believe, if you'd
committed the murder yourself you wouldn't be much more concerned!"

"Well,