They were exclaiming loudly, after the fashion of their race, at something which was coming slowly down the long cedar lane. It was an ordinary one-horse tumbril cart, driven by a negro sitting on a plank laid athwart, and in the cart lay a long narrow box covered over with a military cloak. Tied behind the cart followed a horse, fully accoutered, with the stirrups crossed over the cavalry saddle. Angela, whose glance was keen, turned to Isabey and said: “That’s Richard’s horse and that’s his body servant, Peter, driving the cart.” Isabey’s practiced eye took in the truth at a glance--Richard Tremaine lay dead in the cart. He walked with Angela quickly to the front of the house. Colonel and Mrs. Tremaine were already upon the porch. They watched with terrified eyes the cart as it drew near the wide opening in the cedar hedge where the driveway began. Angela ran forward and took Mrs. Tremaine’s hand. Colonel Tremaine’s tall figure swayed a little, and, putting out his arm, he drew Mrs. Tremaine to his side. A solemn hush had fallen upon the assembled negroes, young and old, who watched the cart drive up. Lyddon and Archie came out and joined the silent group upon the pillared porch. The cart drove around the carriage path and halted in front of the steps. The horse stood almost as still as the dead man who lay covered up in the cart. Peter scrambled down, and going up to the steps, his rough cap in his hand, said to Mrs. Tremaine: “Missis, I done brought Marse Richard back to you.” Mrs. Tremaine said no word, but the father and mother of the dead man clung desperately together as the bolt fell. [Illustration: “‘Missis, I done brought Marse Richard back to you.’”]