"They have--they have--they have a' killed themselves," stammered the postman, pointing to the Gourlays. Their loins were loosened beneath them. The scrape of their feet on the road, as they turned to stare, sounded monstrous in the silence. No man dared to speak. They gazed with blanched faces at the House with the Green Shutters, sitting dark there and terrible beneath the radiant arch of the dawn. PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN.