on, and meet them
returning?' I consented, and we started up the lake. The boat headed for
the point extending out from the other shore. I asked Paul where we were
going. He answered, 'We can reach that point over there, and get back in
time to meet your friends.' His reply was testy and manner unexpected. I
grew suspicious, and insisted on our return. Paul became angry, and did
not heed my demands. In my fear, I arose and grasped his arm. He
fiercely told me to sit down, using a fearful oath. I refused, and said
some wild, bitter things. He then roughly pushed me back, and I fell
overboard."

The mystery of Paul Lanier's conduct greatly puzzled all. However, it
was evident that he had not intended the consequence of his rash act.
This was the result of brutal passion at her resistance to some other
design. What could he have intended in his deceitful ruse? He must have
been convinced of her death, and fled, using the boat to gain time. All
were sure that Alice nevermore would be troubled by Paul Lanier. He
would flee, pursued by the supposed Nemesis of his victim.

In this their conclusion was natural, but not based on subtle knowledge
of Paul's character. He possessed marvelous cunning and much personal
courage. No one but Alice saw him in the boat, and he thinks she is at
the bottom of the lake. His coming to Northfield was in disguise, known
only to Pierre Lanier. In the same manner Paul returned to London.

The affair had taken a most unpremeditated turn, but father and son will
accept the tragic result with resignation. Had their plans finally
miscarried, there would have been a removal of Alice Webster. Better for
their consciences that her death was due to sudden passion and accident
than to "malice aforethought."

Both scanned all the daily papers for news of Alice's disappearance, but
were perplexed by failure to see such reference. Not being able longer
to bear the suspense, Paul, in new disguise, again appeared in the
vicinity of Northfield. Inquiring as to any incidents of note occurring
in that neighborhood, he learns only of other petty gossip. He dares not
visit the residence, but watches for its familiar faces.

At length his tireless zeal is rewarded.

Paul is hidden in a thick undergrowth of bushes, nearly opposite the
point in the lake where Alice Webster had sunk from sight. Looking from
his retreat, he sees the ghost of the drowned girl approaching. In
terror, Paul cowers before this supernat