there we found Mr. Blake in a reclining position, with a
bloody knife in his hand. I recognized it as belonging to Kaffar. I saw
something lying on the ground, and, on picking it up, found it to be a
scarf which Kaffar had been wearing this very night. It was twisted and
soiled, and on it were spots of blood. Footmarks were to be seen on the
edge of the deep pond, indicating a struggle; but Kaffar was nowhere to
be seen.'

"'It cannot be! It cannot be!' said Miss Forrest. 'But what then?'

"'I asked Mr. Blake questions. I accused him of many things, but he
denied nothing.'

"'Denied nothing?'

"'Nothing, Miss Forrest. He tacitly admitted everything. I wish I could
think otherwise; but oh, I am afraid my friend, my only friend, lies
murdered at the bottom of Drearwater Pond, and murdered by Mr. Blake.'

"'It cannot be!' cried Miss Forrest. 'Mr. Blake could never, _never_ do
so. There is some mistake.'

"He took something from his pocket which was wrapped in a handkerchief.
He removed this wrapping, and there revealed the knife you held in your
hand.

"'This blood cries out for vengeance,' he said; 'ay, and it shall be
avenged too.'

"She gave a scream as if in pain. 'Why, what will you do?' she cried.

"'Were I in Egypt, my vengeance would be speedy,' he said, his light eyes
glittering; 'but I am debarred from that here. Still, there is a means
of vengeance. Your English law is stern. To-morrow the whole country
shall shudder because of this dark deed, and to-morrow night that man,
Justin Blake, shall sleep in a felon's cell'

"'No, no!' she cried. 'Not that. Have mercy.'

"'Yes, yes!' he said, his voice husky with passion. 'What mercy did he
have upon my friend? I will have vengeance, and my vengeance is just.'"

Try as I might, I could not help shuddering at this. A felon's cell! My
name mentioned with loathing! 'Twas too horrible. I tried to conquer
myself, however, and to tell Tom to go on with his recital. He
continued--

"'Does any one know of these things besides you two?' she said at length.

"'No,' replied Voltaire. 'No one has had a chance of knowing.'"

Tom stopped in his recital, as if he would rather not tell what
followed.

"What next, Tom?" I cried eagerly.

"I am thinking whether it is fair to her to tell you, and yet it is
right you should know."

"What was it, Tom?"

She threw herself down on her knees before us, and besought us to keep
the matter in our own hearts.

"'It is