Reaching the narrow street I espied the tall, lounging form of Captain Danby some considerable distance ahead and instinctively hastened my steps. "Verefore the hurry, sir?" enquired Mr. Shrig, laying a finger on my arm. "I must speak with yonder scoundrel." "Scoundrel is the werry i-dentical vord, sir--but bide a bit--easy it is." As he spoke, the Captain turned out of the street into a field path shaded by a tall hedge; in due time we also came to this path and saw a shady lane ran parallel with it, down which a man was walking. We had gone but a little way along this path when Mr. Shrig halted and seating himself upon the grassy bank, took off his hat and mopped his brow. "A be-eautiful sunset, sir." "Yes!" I answered, turning to view the glowing splendour. "So werry red, Mr. Werricker, sir, like fire--like blood." But I noticed that his keen glance was fixed upon the little wood that gloomed some distance before us, also that he held his head aslant as one who listens intently, and had taken out his ponderous watch. "Why do you sit there, Mr. Shrig?" I enquired, a little impatiently. "I'm a-vaitin', sir." "What for, man?" "Hush, sir, and you'll soon--" The word was lost in a strange, sudden, double concussion of sound. "At ex-actly twenty-two minutes to eight, sir!" said Mr. Shrig, and rising to his feet, set off briskly along the path. We had almost reached the wood I have mentioned when Mr. Shrig raised his knobbed stick to point at something that sprawled grotesquely across the path. The hat had fallen and rolled away and staring down into the horror of this face fouled with blood and blackened with powder, I recognised the features of Captain Danby. "So here's the end o' Wiciousness," said Mr. Shrig and as he leaned upon his stick I saw his bright glance roving here and there; it flashed along the path before us; it swept the thicker parts of the hedge behind us; it questioned the deepening shadow of the copse. "Aye, here's an end to Number Vun, and if we look in the vood yonder, I fancy we shall see summat o' Number Two. This vay, sir--you can see the leaves is bloody hereabouts if you look--this vay!" Like one in an evil dream I followed him in among the trees and was aware that he had halted again. "What now--what is it?" I questioned. "Number Two, sir, and--look yonder, and--by Goles, 'e's dodged me likewise--burn my neck if 'e ain't!" As he spoke, Mr. Shrig parted the kindly leaves and I beheld the form of my servant Clegg, as neat and precise in death as he had ever been in life. "Poor lad!" said Mr. Shrig, baring his head. "Ye see, 'e 'appened to love Nancy Price, sir--the wictim o' Wiciousness yonder, an' 'ere's the result. Even walets has feelin's--this 'un werry much so!" "Dead?" I mumbled, feeling myself suddenly faint. "Dead--both?" "Aye, sir--both! Vich is comin' it a bit too low down on a man an' no error! To ha' lost both on 'em--crool 'ard I calls it!"