"Could I not be of use if I went too to the Governor?" "Hast thou ever looked on death?" "Never, to remember it. My mother died when I was a little child and my father at sea." "Then do not look upon that corpse yonder. I have seen a dead baby and it looked like a waxen lily, and I have seen a man shot by an Indian's arrow and he looked grand and stern like a marble statue, but this priest was ghastly, horrible. No, I am sure the Governor would not wish you to see it. Mount, and we will ride on and prepare the household at St. Gabriel's." When Romney had left him Giles Brent stooped over the body of the dead priest. "My God!" he murmured, "were not things in this unhappy colony tangled enough without this new trouble? There is a deviltry here that must be sifted to the bottom. We must mark this tree by which the corpse lies. The distance must be two miles from St. Gabriel's and within ten paces of the cross trail from the main path. If there is any clue we must follow it. There should be footsteps; but the fresh snow has covered them whichever way they turned. Death must have been mercifully swift from such a wound." As if to put an end to these disconnected thoughts, he stooped and turned the body on its side. As he did so, something fell from the folds of the cloak. Giles Brent looked at it, studied it more closely with a gaze of fixed amazement, and then as he heard the sound of approaching footsteps slipped it into his pocket. But his face was ashen as he spoke to Neale, who was in advance. "Come, Neale, do you lift on that side and I on this, while Cornwaleys may bind him to the saddle with the rope he will find in my saddle-bag. So--gently there--now steady him! Cornwaleys, take the bridle and lead on gently. Thank Heaven, the distance is short!" "Hast thou--is there any clue?" asked Neale. "Nay, who shall say what is a clue? Heaven forbid I should even in thought accuse an innocent man, but as God is my judge, if the guilt be proven the murderer shall be punished, ay, though he were mine own brother." Slowly the men set forward,--Neale and Cornwaleys supporting their terrible burden between them, Brent walking behind with his horse's bridle-rein over his arm, and his head bowed as if with a burden too heavy to be borne. "Who could have thought it?" he murmured. "Who could have believed it of _him_ of all men?" Raising his eyes, he caught sight of the little party in advance, Peggy in her scarlet cloak and Romney by her side. The sight seemed to give rise to new and still more painful reflections. "Poor child," he thought, "would it were possible to punish the guilty without bringing down shame and sorrow on the innocent as well!" On and on the caravan moved till the last bend in the road was reached, and there, beyond the clearing, lay the manor house of St. Gabriel's.