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He bent down to replace the bedclothes which the sick man had thrown off, and as he did so, a faint perfume, sickly and rich, struck his nostrils. It seemed to come from the bandages at the back of the head, and on bending down for a closer inspection, Jen saw that one of these--it was the merest corner which peeped out--was of finer linen than the rest. The fabric was cambric, and with a start which made the blood turn to ice in his veins, Jen realized that it was a woman's handkerchief--its delicacy and border-embroideries assured him of this.,

"Yes, sir, an' hawful female she is!",

"Yes, within the gates," responded Etwald. "When Isabella had struck the blow she dropped the devil-stick in the grass, where, if you remember, it was afterward found by Battersea. Then she returned to the house by the little path which leads thereto through the surrounding trees. The body lay in the bright moonlight, full in the center of the path, not a stonethrow from the high road. David and I rushed simultaneously from our hiding-places, and I explained hurriedly that the body must not be found in the grounds. He understood, and we carried the body onto the road. Before we had time to deliberate what was to be done we heard the noise of approaching footsteps, and afraid--both of us--of being accused of the crime, we fled. Then you came down the road and discovered the corpse.",

"There you have it," cried Arkel, with a nod. "The wound at the back of the head was caused by his falling like a log when he was drugged."

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"Did you hear any noise?",

"Not at present," said Jen, after a moment's thought. "But, later on, I shall, in order to clear the memory of David.",

I have always thought that Judge Wade was really the most wonderful man in Hillsboro, not because he is a judge so young in life that there is only a white sprinkle in his lovely black hair that grows back off his head like Napoleon's and Charles Wesley's, but because of his smile, which you wait for so long that you glow all over when you get it. I have seen him do it once or twice at his mother when he seats her in their pew at church, and once at little Mamie Johnson when she gave him a flower through their fence as he passed by one day last week, but I never thought I should have one all to myself. But there it was, a most beautiful one, long and slow and distinctly mine—at least I didn't think much of it was for Billy. I sat up and blushed as red all over as I do when I first hit that tub of cold water.,

"Yes, and in an easy manner. Never get married."