of men stood now in front of the tavern.

"Now search for the murderer in every nook and corner, for a distance
of three miles from this spot; each party keeping to its own section;
the road being one dividing line, and a line through the centre of this
tavern the other. The horsemen will pursue the wretch to a greater
distance."

More than a hundred acquiescing voices responded to this, as the man
sprung down from his elevation and mingled with the crowd, which began
instantly to move away on its appointed mission.

As the hours went by, one, and another, and another, of the searching
party returned to the village, wearied with their efforts, or confident
that the murderer had made good his escape. The horsemen, too, began to
come in, during the afternoon, and by sundown, the last of them, worn
out and disappointed, made their appearance.

For hours after the exciting events of the forenoon, there were but few
visitors at the "Sickle and Sheaf." Slade, who did not show himself
among the crowd, came down soon after its dispersion. He had shaved and
put on clean linen; but still bore many evidences of a night spent
without sleep. His eyes were red and heavy and the eyelids swollen;
while his skin was relaxed and colorless. As he descended the stairs, I
was walking in the passage. He looked shy at me, and merely nodded.
Guilt was written plainly on his countenance; and with it was blended
anxiety and alarm. That he might be involved in trouble, he had reason
to fear; for he was one of the party engaged in gambling in Green's
room, as both Mr. Jacobs and I had witnessed.

"This is dreadful business," said he, as we met, face to face, half an
hour afterward. He did not look me steadily in the eyes.

"It is horrible!" I answered. "To corrupt and ruin a young man, and
then murder him! There are few deeds in the catalogue of crime blacker
than this!"

"It was done in the heat of passion," said the landlord, with something
of an apology in his manner. "Green never meant to kill him."

"In peaceful intercourse with his fellow-men, why did he carry a deadly
weapon? There was murder in his heart, sir."

"That is speaking very strongly."

"Not stronger than the facts will warrant," I replied. "That Green is a
murderer in heart, it needed not this awful consummation to show. With
a cool, deliberate purpose, he has sought, from the beginning, to
destroy young Hammond."

"It is hardly fair," answered Slade, "in the presen