picked up and slipped into my pocket.

Rodd arrived half dressed.

"What's the matter now?" he growled.

I pointed to Marnham, saying--

"That is a question for you to answer.

"Oh! drunk again, I suppose," he said. Then he did as I had
done, bent down and examined him. A few seconds later he stepped
or reeled back, looking as frightened as a man could be, and
exclaiming--

"Dead as a stone, by God! Dead these three hours or more."

"Quite so," I answered, "but what killed him?"

"How should I know?" he asked savagely. "Do you suspect me of
poisoning him?"

"My mind is open," I replied; "but as you quarrelled so bitterly
last night, others might."

The bolt went home; he saw his danger.

"Probably the old sot died in a fit, or of too much brandy. How
can one know without a post-mortem? But that mustn't be made by
me. I'm off to inform the magistrate and get hold of another
doctor. Let the body remain as it is until I return."

I reflected quickly. Ought I to let him go or not? If he had
any hand in this business, doubtless he intended to escape.
Well, supposing this were so and he did escapee, that would be a
good thing for Heda, and really it was no affair of mine to bring
the fellow to justice. Moreover there was nothing to show that
he was guilty; his whole manner seemed to point another way,
though of course he might be acting.

"Very well," I replied, "but return as quickly as possible."

He stood for a few seconds like a man who is dazed. It occurred
to me that it might have come into his mind with Marnham's death
that he had lost his hold over Heda. But if so he said nothing
of it, but only asked--

"Will you go instead of me?"

"On the whole I think not," I replied, "and if I did, the story I
should have to tell might not tend to your advantage."

"That's true, damn you!" he exclaimed and left the room.

Ten minutes later he was galloping towards Pilgrim's Rest.
Before I departed from the death chamber I examined the place
carefully to see if I could find any poison or other deadly
thing, but without success. One thing I did discover, however.
Turning the leaf of a blotting-book that was by Marnham's elbow,
I came upon a sheet of paper on which were written these words in
his hand, "Greater love hath no man than this--" that was all.

Either he had forgotten the end of the quotation or changed his
mind, or was unable through weakness to finish the sentence.
This paper als