Of course, Hench's first impulse, which was the impulse of an ordinary human being when brought face to face with crime, was to run back to Cookley village and give the alarm. But even as he turned to fly, he halted, struck with a sudden thought which made the blood freeze in his young veins. He had been lured to this place by means of the advertisement, and here he found the dead body of a man not long stabbed to the heart. Was it a trap? Had he been brought to this solitary spot to be entangled in a crime? It seemed very like it, and swiftly thinking over the matter, Hench did not see how he could exonerate himself should he give the alarm. With a feeling of absolute terror, he bent over the dead so as to make himself acquainted with the appearance of the poor creature. There was no doubt that the man was a gentleman, since he was in evening-dress and was wearing studs and sleeve-links of gold, together with a silk-lined overcoat, or rather cloak. His face was clean-shaven, with an aquiline nose and thin compressed lips, decidedly that of a handsome man. From his lined countenance and white hair, Owain took him to be about sixty years of age, although being dead there was an astonishing look of youth about him. Even as Hench stared, the lines on the old face seemed to fade away and leave it young and smooth. Yes, he was a gentleman, as was apparent from the well-bred, disdainful face. It did not need the evening-dress, the silk-lined cloak, the silk socks or the patent-leather shoes to show the man's station in the world. Here, as it occurred to Owain, was a gentleman, who had strolled into the wood after dinner, there to meet with a terrible death at the hands of some unknown person.