In the midst of her anguish of fear she felt a sudden rush of gratitude. Jim was safe out of the way, thanks be! Jim would not be back till the folks had got off with their spoil. But now Duke was whimpering and crying in a most eerie and heartrending manner, and presently uplifted his voice in long-drawn howls which jarred upon Betty’s overwrought nerves beyond endurance. She jumped out of bed and ran to the casement. It had ceased raining, and though the moon rode between piles of angry clouds, she sent forth at that moment an extraordinarily clear light. Betty could see the skeleton branches of the trees all wet and shining as they tossed against the sky; the little paved path glimmered white; yonder stood a dark patch--Dick’s hamper. She could see Duke pacing round and round his kennel, at the utmost length of his chain; now sniffing the ground, now lifting up his head for another howl. She rapped at the pane and called to him sharply; and the dog looked up at her window, and suddenly wheeled in the opposite direction, pricking his ears. Steps were heard approaching--slow, lagging steps--and presently two figures came staggering together out of the wood. Betty screamed as they emerged from the shadow, and then leaned forth, paralysed with dread; for as the two slowly advanced into the moonlit path she recognised Stubbs, the under-keeper, and saw that he was supporting, almost carrying, his companion. “Be that you, Mrs. Whittle?” cried Stubbs. “Come down, Mum, come down this minute! This be a bad night’s work!” The man leaning upon him raised his head with an inarticulate attempt to speak, and Betty saw that it was Jim--her own Jim--her husband! But, oh! what tale was that told by the drawn features and glassy eyes? She had screamed at the unknown terror, but she uttered no sound now. Before they reached the door she had mechanically thrown on her dress over her nightgown, and had come downstairs, pattering with her bare feet. She flung open the door, and put her arms round her husband, almost as if she grudged him any support but hers. “My poor little ’ooman!” said Jim brokenly; “I d’ ’low I’m done for.” With Stubbs’ aid she stretched him on the sofa, and unfastened coat and waistcoat. She drew out her hand from his bosom suddenly, and looked at it with a shudder: it was red! “Ah, he’s got the whole charge in en somewhere,” groaned Stubbs. “There was a lot of ’em out to-night, and we catched one of ’em; he fought like a devil, he did--’twas in wrestling wi’ him poor Whittle’s gun went off. Dear to be sure, ’tis awful to think on. His own gun!” “Where’s the man?” asked Betty sharply; her face was as white as a sheet--her lips drawn back from her gleaming teeth. “Oh, he made off, ye mid be sure,” returned the other. “I don’t know who he was. ’Twas in the thick o’ the trees yonder we come on ’em. Moon had gone in and ’twas as dark as pitch.” “Do you think my husband will die!” gasped Betty.