kely that Henshaw was bound upon some search
with the police. His movements were and had been for some time
mysterious enough.

Gifford's impulse as he turned into the high road was to stay there in
concealment and watch for the upshot of Henshaw's presence. The
suggestion did not, however, altogether commend itself to him. He
disliked the idea of spying even upon such a man as Henshaw, whom he had
good reason to suspect of playing a dastardly game. It was probable, too,
that Henshaw had recognized him and might be on the look-out; it would be
intensely humiliating to be caught watching. So, turning the pros and
cons over in his mind, Gifford walked slowly on in a state of
irresolution till he came to a wicket-gate which admitted from the road
to a path which ran through the churchyard.

There he stopped, debating with himself whether he should turn back and
keep an eye on Henshaw or go on into the church where service was just
beginning. It did seem absurd to imagine that Henshaw with his conveyance
could be waiting there by appointment for a girl of the character and
position of Edith Morriston. True, he had seen them walking together in
secret, which was strange enough, but that need not necessarily have been
a planned meeting.

Such an urgent curiosity had hold of him at the bare possibility of
something wrong that he, temporizing with his scruples, was about to turn
back to the lane, when he saw the figure of a woman coming towards him
along the churchyard path. She was tall and so far as he could make out,
muffled in a cloak and veil. His heart gave a leap, for although the
woman's face and figure were indistinguishable the height and gait
corresponded with those of Edith Morriston.

As she came near the little gate where he stood she stopped dead, seemed
to hesitate a moment, and then turned as though to go back. Determined to
set his doubts at rest Gifford passed quickly through the gate and
followed her at an overtaking pace. Evidently sensible of her pursuit,
the woman quickened her steps and, as Gifford gained on her, turned
quickly from the path, threading her way among the graves to escape him.
She had gone but a few steps when in her hurry she tripped over the mound
of a small, unmarked grave and fell to the ground.

Gifford ran to her and taking her arm assisted her to rise.

"Miss Morriston!" he exclaimed, for he now was sure of her identity. "I
hope you are not hurt," he added mechanically, his mi