led to Terriford churchyard. It was a bitterly cold, as well as a dark, night, but it was not the cold and darkness which made her tremble so violently that she found it difficult to shut the front door behind her.

For almost the first time in her life she was doing a thing which she believed to be wrong. She knew that not only her uncle and aunt, but also her lover, would be profoundly distressed and shocked by what she had long ago secretly determined she would do—that is, share, in as far as was possible without his being aware of it, Harry Garlett’s horrible ordeal.

After an evening during which none of the three had spoken of what was filling all their minds and hearts, she had waited in her bedroom, trying to read, until close to midnight. Then there had come the sound of the front door shutting softly behind Dr. Maclean, and, allowing him a good quarter of an hour’s start, she had crept down the stairs, and followed him.

Jean’s eyes soon became accustomed to the darkness, and when she knew herself to be close to the wrought-iron gate which led into the grounds of the Thatched House, she waited a moment, scarcely daring to breathe, for she felt that it would be terrible for her, and horribly painful to them both, were she to meet Harry Garlett on the way to his sinister tryst.

As she walked up the broad, now deserted, village street, at the top of which were the church and churchyard with only fields and country lanes beyond, there was a red glow 96over the sky, and she could see the roof and clock-tower of the church outlined against it. She told herself, vaguely, that a house must be on fire somewhere far away, but the thought scarcely stirred her, so intent was she on the dreadful thing that was about to be done.

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When she came close up to the lych-gate she stayed her steps and listened intently. But there was neither stir nor sound, and she reminded herself that Mrs. Garlett’s grave lay the other side of the church and so even in daylight was completely hidden from where she was now standing.

She had moved a step forward, her foot kicking aside a stone as she did so, when all at once a bull’s-eye lantern was turned full on her. Giving a stifled cry of surprise and fear, she waited, shrinkingly, for a stern inquiry as to her name and business to follow. But to her mingled relief and amazement it was a kindly, if a gruff, voice which came out of the darkness.

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