es turned to the
sky, and two great dogs fussing uneasily about him. A big pup close by
had a large swelling on his head. By Henson's side lay the ash stick he
had picked up when pursued by Merritt.

Williams bent over the stark, still figure and shuddered as he saw how
his clothing was all torn away from the body; saw the deep wounds in
the chest and throat; he could see that Henson still breathed. His
loud shouts for assistance brought Frank Littimer and the lodge-keeper
to the spot. Together they carried the body to the lodge and sent for
the doctor.

"The case is absolutely hopeless," Walker said, after he had made his
examination. "The poor fellow may linger till the morning, but I doubt
if he will recognise anybody again. Does anybody know how the thing
came about?"

Nobody but Merritt could have thrown any light upon the mystery, and he
was far away. Williams shook his head as he thought of his parting with
Henson the previous night.

"I let him out and closed the gate behind him," he said. "He must have
come back for something later on and gone for the dogs. He certainly hit
one of the pups over the head with a stick, and that probably set the
others on to him. Nobody will ever know the rights of the business."

And nobody ever did, for Henson lingered on through the day and far into
the night. At the house Lord Littimer was entertaining a party at dinner.
Everything had been explained; the ring had been produced and generally
admired. All was peace and happiness. They were all on the terrace in the
darkness when Williams came up from the lodge.

"Is there any further news?" Lord Littimer asked.

"Yes, my lord," Williams said, quietly. "Dr. Walker has just come, and
would like to see you at once. Mr. Reginald Henson died ten minutes ago."

A hush came over the hitherto noisy group. It was some little time before
Lord Littimer returned. He had only to confirm the news. Reginald Henson
was dead; he had escaped justice, after all.

"Well, I'm not sorry," Lady Littimer said. "It is a rare disgrace
saved to the family. And there have been trouble and sorrow enough and
to spare."

"But your own good name, my dear?" Lord Littimer said. "And Frank's?"

"We can live all that down, my dear husband. Frank will be too happy with
Chris to care what gossips say. And Dr. Bell and Enid will be as happy as
the others."

"And Ruth and myself, too," David said, quietly. "Later on I shall tell
in a book how three sir