Elsie's bosom was heaving, the faint flush of her
cheek was becoming a vivid glow. There was no longer any doubt in his
mind. Elsie Venner loved Bernard Langdon. The sudden conviction,
absolute, overwhelming, rushed upon him.

Elsie made no answer, but glided out of the room and slid away to her
own apartment. She bolted the door, and drew her curtains close. Then
she threw herself on the floor, and fell into a dull, slow ache of
passion, without tears, almost without words.

Dick realised that he had reached a fearful point. He could not give up
the great Dudley property. Therefore, the school-master must be got rid
of, and by self-destruction.

Mr. Bernard Langdon must be found, suspended to the branch of a tree,
somewhat within a mile of the Apollinean Institute.

_III.--The Perilous Hour_

Old Doctor Kettredge had advised Bernard Langdon to go in for pistol-
shooting, and had even presented him with a small, beautifully finished
revolver. "I want you to carry this," he said, "and more than that, I
want you to practise with it often, so that it may be seen and
understood that you are apt to have a pistol about you."

This was at the conclusion of a conversation between the doctor and Mr.
Bernard concerning Elsie Venner.

"Elsie interests me," said the young man, "interests me strangely. I
would risk my life for her, but I do not love her. If her hand touches
mine, it is not a thrill of passion I feel running through me, but a
very different emotion."

"Mr. Langdon," said the doctor, "you have come to this country town
without suspicion, and you are moving in the midst of perils. Keep your
eyes open, and your heart shut. If, through pitying that girl, you ever
come to love her, you are lost. If you deal carelessly with her, beware!
This is not all. There are other eyes on you beside Elsie Venner's. Go
armed in future."

Mr. Bernard thought the advice very odd, but he followed it, and soon
became known as an expert at revolver-shooting. On the day when Dick
Venner had decided that the schoolmaster must be found hanged, Bernard
Langdon went out as usual for the evening walk. He thrust his pistol,
which he had put away loaded, into his pocket before starting.

The moon was shining at intervals, for the night was partially clouded.
There seemed to be nobody stirring, but presently he detected the sound
of hoofs, and, looking forward, saw a horseman coming in his direction.
When the horseman was within a hu