He found the place without any difficulty, a small house and barn standing in a lonely location, about two miles from the town, while there were only one or two other dwellings in sight. There was no sign of life about the place, and the buildings were fast falling into decay. Weeds and vines and wild flowers grew all about the yard, and everything looked desolate and forlorn. Geoffrey shivered as he stepped up to a window and looked into that small kitchen, and recalled the dark deed which had been perpetrated there. He did not believe the place had ever been inhabited since; it had a look of having been shunned, and perhaps regarded as a haunted house. He wondered how Margery had been found, and what measures had been taken to discover the author of the crime. He did not remain there long; it was not an attractive spot, and there were no means of learning anything that he wished to find out. He resolved to visit some of the neighbors, and try to ascertain what had been done with Mrs. Henly’s body, and if Captain Dale had ever visited the place since the tragedy occurred. The nearest neighbor was at least a quarter of a mile away; he could just discern the roof and chimneys over a little rise of ground to the south. He mounted his horse again and rode toward it, coming, in a few minutes, to a large and comfortable farmhouse, where peace and plenty seemed to reign. He found the farmer just driving up his cows from pasture. He was a man apparently sixty years of age, with a kind and genial face, quick and energetic in his movements in spite of his three-score years. Geoffrey saluted him courteously, introduced himself, and asked if he could spare the time to answer a few questions. The man called a boy to attend to his cows, then invited Geoffrey to dismount and come with him to the wide, pleasant veranda, where they could converse at their leisure, assuring him that he should be glad to give him any information he might possess. Geoffrey accepted his invitation, and then entered at once upon the business that had brought him there. “I am in this locality chiefly to ascertain something of the people who once occupied that house over yonder,” he said, indicating Jack Henly’s deserted dwelling, “and thought my best way would be to apply to some one living in the neighborhood.” The farmer’s face fell at this. Evidently the subject was not a pleasant one to him. “You couldn’t have come to a better place to find out what you want to know, sir,” he replied, “for I’ve lived here for the last thirty-five years, and I can tell you all about that sad story—at least all that anybody hereabouts ever knew; though it isn’t a cheerful subject.”