"Fallen!" repeated Wray, aghast. "Where could she have fallen from? How could my girl be in Fern Dene?" "Suppose I send one of the men to bring Doctor Graham, he's the nearest," suggested Mr. Churchill. "I will go with you to Fern Dene if you like, Mr. Wray." "It can't be my girl there!" said Wray, in violent excitement. "She went out about half-past eight o'clock, the barmaid says--how could she be there?" "It's better to ascertain at any rate, and I'll send for Doctor Graham at once. This poor young woman in Fern Dene, whoever it be, may require some assistance," answered Mr. Churchill, quietly. He therefore at once dispatched one of the farm servants for the doctor, who only lived a quarter of a mile distant, and he whispered a word in May's ear. "Are you well enough to go with us, May?" he said. "And tell some of the women to bring brandy and blankets; the poor soul may not be dead, you know." May made no reply. She had looked at the landlord's agitated face, and great pity for him was in her heart. But she was not quite sure of the dead woman's identity. She thought it was Elsie Wray, but the face was so awfully changed she could not be certain. "It may not be your daughter, Mr. Wray," she said, tremulously, "who is lying injured--but we had better see." "It can not be my daughter," affirmed Wray, "but we can see, we can see." "I will drive May to Fern Dene," said Mr. Churchill. "It will take less time, and then we can take with us what is necessary, and will you drive the doctor, Mr. Wray?" "Why wait for the doctor? Let us go at once," answered the landlord, with nervous, eager impatience. "It can't be my girl there, and I must find her." "Very well; he can follow. My horse will be harnessed in a minute, and then we can start," said Mr. Churchill; and very shortly afterward they did start. Mr. Churchill's horse was a young and powerful one, and they quickly drew in sight of the wooded dell that hid so drear a sight. Here Mr. Churchill assisted May out of the high dog-cart, and then fastened his horse to a tree, and took out the brandy and blankets they had brought. By this time Wray, who had been urging his pony to its utmost speed, overtook them, and the three together--May, her father, and the landlord--crossed the little bridge and found themselves in the shady Dene. May went on, naturally with shrinking dread, and the landlord with trembling footsteps. They had not gone far when they met John Temple; he had heard their voices in the silence around, and now advanced to meet them, and as he did so his face was very grave. "This is a sad affair, Mr. Churchill," he said. "I hope nothing very bad, Mr. Temple?" answered the farmer. "It looks very black, at least," continued Temple; "there is a revolver lying near the body among the undergrowth, but I thought it best not to touch it until the police arrive."