In the course of his glancing here, there and everywhere, he became aware that in the long grass some distance beyond the stile, and some distance away from the meandering path, lay a dark object. At first Hench thought it was merely the trunk of a tree, but as the moonlight grew stronger and the outlines of the object more distinct, he began to believe that it was a man. Doubtless, as he concluded hastily, some tramp had thrown himself down to sleep in the safe cover of the wood, where no policeman would rouse him from his slumbers. But Hench knew that it was scarcely wise to sleep in the moonbeams, so clambered over the stile and walked towards the man with the intention of awakening him. Shortly he was bending over the presumably sleeping tramp, and then became aware with a shock of surprise that the man was clothed in evening-dress, over which a dark, loose cloak had been thrown. With a vivid feeling of fear Hench turned the man over--he was lying on his face--and started back with an ejaculation of horror. The stiff white shirt-front was red with blood, and in the man's heart was buried a knife with a horn handle. Owain struck a match to assure himself of the truth, although the moonlight was so strong that he scarcely needed to take such trouble. But while he held the match with shaking hand over the dead face, its wavering light showed him very plainly that he was right. The man was dead--the man had been murdered--and there he lay mysteriously done to death in the heart of a lonely wood.