er world. Afterwards when they recalled that scene--and there
was no one there who ever forgot it--they could scarcely tell which
seemed the most terrible part to them--the lifeless body of the murdered
man with the terrible writing of death in his white face, or the tragic
figure of Helen Thurwell, the squire's cold, graceful daughter, with her
placid features and whole being suddenly transformed with this wave of
passion.

Mr. Thurwell drew a few steps backward, and his keen gray eyes swept the
open country round.

"There was no one in sight when we got here; but the blackguard can't be
far away!" he said. "Heggs, and you, Smith, and you, Cook, go through
the spinney as fast as you can, one in the middle and one on each side,
mind! I will go up Falcon's Hill and look round. Jem, run to Mallory as
fast as you can for Dr. Holmes, and on to the police station. Quick! all
of you. There's not a moment to lose!"

The desire for action was as strong in them now as had been their former
torpor. Mr. Thurwell and his daughter were alone in less than a minute.

"Helen, I forgot you!" he exclaimed. "I can't leave you alone, and some
one must stay here. Where is Lathon?"

"He has gone on to take Rachel home," she answered. "I will stay here. I
am not afraid. Quick! you can see for miles from the top of the hill and
you have your field glass. Oh, do go. Go!"

He hesitated, but she was evidently very much in earnest.

"I will just climb the hill and hurry down again," he said. "I cannot
leave you here for more than a few minutes. If only we had more men with
us!"

He turned away, and walked swiftly across the moor toward the hill. For
a minute or two she stood watching his departing figure. Then she turned
round with a shudder and buried her face in her clasped hands. Her
appearance was less hard now and more natural, for a sickly sense of
horror at the sight of his body was commencing to assert itself over
that first strange instinct of passionate anger. It was none the less
dreadful to her because in a certain way his removal was a release. She
had promised to marry this man, but there had been scarcely a moment
since when she had not found herself regretting it. Now the sense of
freedom, which she could not altogether evade, was like torture to her.
She dropped on her knees by his side, and took his cold hand in hers. A
few hours ago she dared not have done this, knowing very well that at
the caressing touch of her finge