desperate struggle there had been every sign indicated--that they had then abided in that lone cottage in the awful stillness of the night, crouching by the murdered dead, waiting, waiting till such time as Tom should appear, if by chance he should; that they had sprung upon him as he entered the narrow passage and cleft his skull in twain. Had those who held this theory known human nature they would have known that murder once done the murderer's first, and only thought is flee from the sight of the work of his hands. It passes the endurance of man to linger by the side of the murdered victim, so eloquent in its eternal silence, and to calmly await the coming of one who may or may not come. I knew and Jim knew that Tom was in the inn when Billy burst in. What then befell who shall say? I only know that if Billy had done the deed it was done in the very frenzy of a wrath justly stirred, and should I be the one to set the bloodhounds of the law upon him whose every thought and act was moved by love for Miriam? It was some weeks after the beginning of that dread month that I betook myself, in company with Jim, to Pole Moor. Word had come from Ruth that my love was now able to leave her room, though very weak and worn and wan, a shadow of her old self, but insisting that to see me would do her more good than all the physic in Dr. Dean's surgery. And it was in a very halting fashion, bit by bit, with many a shudder, that she told the story of what had befallen her on her way from Bent Hall to keep her tryst with Ruth at the Church Inn. She had started in merry mood, her heart glad and light within her breast, and all a-flutter at the thought that every step brought her nearer to the lad she loved. And the day was in keeping with her joyous mood. The April sun shone in a clear sky, the birds trilled in the azure and twittered in the hedgerows to their mates, every branch and bough and twig and blade and frond spoke of life's renewing and love's awakening after the long repose of another winter gone. She had gained the rise from Roaches when she heard the sound of a horse's hoofs falling upon the road and a voice calling, "Miriam, Miriam." She turned in great surprise. It was Ephraim riding in a shabby, ram shackle old gig, but the horse in the shafts had mettle and paces. Ephraim was not the man to sit behind an indifferent beast. "I knew you a mile of by the swing of your gait, lass. Wherever are you bound, and whatever brings you to these parts? I thowt you were tied to Pole Moor for good and all." "I'm on my way there now, Ephraim. I've been staying at Bent Hall." "What! with old John Buckley? Tha's never turned lady's maid! It'll none suit thee to be cribbed wi'in four walls, ta'in' wage to ma' an old woman look like a young 'un." "Mrs. Buckley's a relation of mine. But it's a long story, Ephraim, and I'm in a hurry." "What's your push?" "I'm to meet Abel Holmes' sister, Ruth, at the Church Inn at Saddleworth."