strange part—that was not the reason why the living man, bending close above the dead, stared at the face as though he could never gaze enough.

The faces that stared so grimly, in that desolate spot, into each other—the dead and the living—were alike in every particular, down to the smallest detail; it was as though the living man gazed into a mirror, which threw back every line, even every faint touch of colouring, in his own face.

“Dandy Chater!” whispered Crowdy to himself in an awed voice. “So, I’ve found you at last!”

CHAPTER II ON THE TRACK OF A SHADOW

The man’s first impulse was to shout for assistance; his second, to dash hot foot after the murderer; his last, to keep perfectly still, while he thought hard, with all his wits sharpened by the crisis of the moment. For hours, he had been racing across country, and hiding and dodging, in pursuit of this man; and he came upon him lying dead, the victim of he knew not what conspiracy. Instinctively he glanced about him, with the dread of seeing other murderous eyes watching; instinctively sprang to his feet, the better to face whatever danger might threaten.

The thing was so awful, and so unexpected, that the man, for a moment, had no power to face it; indeed, he had started to run from the place, in an agony of fear, when a sudden thought swept over him—arresting his flight, and holding him as motionless as though some mortal hand had gripped him, and brought him to bay.

“Dandy Chater dead!” he gasped. “This puts a new light on things indeed! Dandy Chater dead—and out of the way! Let me think; let me hammer something out of this new horror—let me find the best road to travel!” He sat down among the rotting timbers, and propped his chin in his palms, and stared at the dead man.

“Who am I? Who—in all this amazing world, will believe my story, if I tell it? Dandy Chater out of the way!——My God!—that serves my purpose; that was what I wanted. The game’s in my hands; the likeness——”

He started to his feet again, and looked round wildly—looked round, like a hunted man who seeks desperately for some way of escape; ran a few paces, and stood listening; came slowly back again.

“Great heavens!” he muttered softly—“they’ll think I murdered him!”

That was a sufficiently sobering thought; he stood still, the better to work out the new 

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