wind is strong
to drown even our voices."

"And those?" she cried again, pointing with outstretched finger to two
rapidly moving black specks coming towards them along the winding road
which led from the highway to Runton Place.

Duncombe watched them for a moment.

"They are the Runton shooting brakes," he declared.

"I expect Lord Runton and the rest of them are coming back."

"Coming back!" she repeated, with a little gasp.

"But they were going to shoot all day and dine there. They are not
expected home till past midnight."

"I expect the shoot is off," Duncombe remarked. "One couldn't possibly
hit anything a day like this. I wonder they ever started."

Her face was white enough before, but it was deathly now. Her lips
parted, but only a little moan came from them. He heard the rush of her
skirts, and saw her spring forward. He was left alone upon the hilltop.

CHAPTER XX

MR. FIELDING IN A NEW ROLE

Runton was apparently enjoying the relaxation of having got rid of
practically the whole of its guests for the day. The women servants were
going about their duties faithfully enough, but with a marked absence of
any superfluous energy. Mr. Harrison, the butler, was enjoying a quiet
pipe in his room and a leisurely perusal of the morning paper. Mrs.
Ellis, the much-respected housekeeper, was also in her room comfortably
ensconced in an easy-chair, and studying a new volume of collected menus
which a friend had sent her from Paris. The servants were not exactly
neglecting their work, but every one was appreciating a certain sense of
peace which the emptying of the house from a crowd of more or less
exacting guests had brought about.

In one room only things were different, and neither Mrs. Ellis nor Mr.
Harrison, nor any of the household, knew anything about that. It was the
principal guest-chamber on the first floor--a large and handsomely
furnished apartment. Barely an hour ago it had been left in spotless
order by a couple of painstaking servants. Just now it had another
aspect.

In the middle of the room a man lay stretched upon the floor, face
downwards. The blood was slowly trickling from a wound in the side of
the head down on to the carpet. With nearly every breath he drew he
groaned. Overturned chairs and tables showed that he had taken part in
no ordinary struggle. The condition of the other man also testified
this.

The other man was Mr. Fielding. He was down on his knees upon the fl