Starting to his feet, the young man remembered how the girl at the inn had talked of Squire Evans' estate lying long-side the wood and divided therefrom by a brick wall. Here was the wood, yonder the wall in question; so it came strongly into Hench's mind that the dead man was Squire Evans. But who had killed him and why had he been killed? Hench looked round searchingly into the shadow of the trees, but could see no lurking form. Whosoever had struck the blow had done so shortly before Hench arrived, as the body was still warm and still supple. After all, the man was dead, sure enough, and it would be useless to run to the village for succour. In fact it would be dangerous, as Owain thought with fear knocking at his heart, for how could he prove his innocence of the crime. There was no motive for him to kill this unknown man, certainly; not even the motive of robbery, as the studs and sleeve-links had not been taken by the assassin. Hench wavered between a desire to consult his own safety by flight and a wish to rouse the village and hunt hot-footed for the murderer. For two long, long minutes he pondered over the horrible situation, then, without a backward glance, raced at top speed along the unknown path leading into the further recesses of the wood. And while he ran his heart beat tumultuously, the perspiration beaded his forehead, and his body shivered with cold, in spite of the warm night. Safety was what he made for, and he tore onward as if the officers of justice were already on his track. An innocent man--yes, he was an innocent man--yet the circumstantial evidence might hang him in spite of that same innocence. Instinct led Hench to avoid returning to London by passing through the village and boarding the train at Cookley Station. Already--and he thought of the possibility with terror--his face and figure might be remembered by some keen-sighted yokel. There was the conversation with the girl in the tap-room. He had talked long enough with her to be remembered, even though the atmosphere, hazy with smoke, had only been illuminated by one dingy lamp. Then, again, he had spoken about the Gipsy Stile; he had asked where it was, and at the Gipsy Stile the murder had taken place. Then there was the advertisement; the police would be sure to find that out, and if there was any reward offered, Madame Alpenny might speak to the authorities about the same. Then he would be linked with the crime, and run the risk of arrest. When confronted with the girl at the inn, she would probably recognize him. Then what possible defence could he make to an accusation of murder?