’ Gerald started. Kneebone. He was wary of her, which meant that perhaps they had found one or many of the bodies that she thought she had hidden so well. He moved, after quiet intervals, with a quick little movement, and ever and again stroked his small mustache and coughed a selfconscious cough. “Oh, yes,” the stranger remarked good-humouredly. Impelled by a feeling, into which we shall not pause to inquire, the stranger started after them; but they were better mounted, and soon distanced him. \" He said. The conflict was of short duration; for Shotbolt was no match for his athletic antagonist. An immediate halt took place. “You cannot say that you did not expect me,” he answered. " "To-morrow will be too late," replied the widow, in a hollow voice, "I feel it will. His horse, which had apparently gone to sleep, preferred to remain where he was.
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