“I am very fortunate, then, in having come to you,” Geoffrey said, in a tone of satisfaction. Then glancing at his watch, he added: “I find it is later than I thought, and as I would like to get back to town before dark, I will ask you to relate in your own way all that you know about the family, and I will restrain all questions until you get through.” “Well, sir,” began the farmer, “the Henlys came here nigh about twenty-two or three years ago, and we thought we were fortunate in having such thrifty neighbors as they seemed to be. There were only three of them, Jack and his wife, and a baby only a few months old, that the woman had taken to nurse, its mother being dead. Everything went along smoothly, and they appeared to be doing well for four or five years, when Jack got into bad company and began to drink. Before this he and his wife seemed to think a great deal of each other, and in bad weather he would help her about the house, while in good weather she would work with him out of doors. In this way he gained time to do many odd jobs outside, and made considerable money by so doing. “After Henly got in with his wild companions, we now and then heard that things were not very pleasant between him and his wife, but no one ever dreamed how serious the trouble was until the terrible tragedy burst like a thunderbolt upon us. My wife and Mrs. Henly had been great friends from the first; and had got in the way of borrowing little messes from each other, as neighbors often do, when they came short and could not get into town to buy what was wanted. So one afternoon my wife said she was out of tea, and would run over to see Mrs. Henly for a little while, and borrow enough for supper. “It didn’t seem as if she’d been gone long enough to get there, when she came flying back as pale as death, wringing her hands and seeming half frightened out of her senses. I rushed to the door to meet her, when she fell into my arms in a dead faint. When she came to she was so unnerved by what she had seen that we had hard work to get the truth out of her, but we finally made out that upon reaching Henly’s she had knocked on the door. No one answered, and she stepped in, as she had often done, when she saw Mrs. Henly lying on the floor, a terrible bruise and gash on her forehead. My wife was so frightened and shocked that she dropped her cup on the floor, where it broke in a dozen pieces, and then, with a scream, turned and ran, as fast as her trembling limbs would carry her, toward home. I called my son and one of my men, and we started at once for the place. We found the woman lying as my wife had described her, only instead of being dead, as she thought, she was now rolling her head from side to side and moaning as if in great pain.” “Not dead!” interrupted Geoffrey, in a startled tone.