"He must have hidden the body in the marshes," I thought, after a vain search; "I'll see if he has left a trail." Struck by the feasibility of this idea, I went out at the front door and examined the ground. It was moist and muddy, owing to the incessant percolation of marshy water. The path leading from Marshminster was marked confusedly with horses' hoofs, so it was quite useless to look for a trail in that direction. Looking from the door of the inn, the path trended to the right; but on the left, where there was no path, I noticed hoof marks, also that the lush grass was trodden down. "Here is the trail," said I, mounting my horse; "he took the body to the left." Following the trail carefully,--and it was plainly discernible, owing to the dampness of the ground,--I rode straight out for some considerable distance. The spongy marsh jetted black water under the feet of the horse, and it seemed as though I were in danger of being bogged. Nevertheless, as the trail still continued in front of me, I followed it. Where Felix could go I could follow. He had evidently placed the body of his brother across his saddle and ridden with it in this direction; I wondered at the nerve of the scoundrel. Unexpectedly the trail turned off at right angles, and led toward a broad pond of water, slimy and sullen in appearance. On the verge of this the track ceased, and then I knew that I saw before me the tomb of Francis Briarfield. Into those black waters the murderer had hurled his victim, and doubtless if the pool were dragged the body would be found. This I determined to do before taking further steps in the matter. "Then, Mr. Felix Briarfield," said I, riding back to the inn, "then we will see how much your astuteness will avail you." It was late in the afternoon when I got back to the inn, and the cold vapors of the marsh made me shiver. As I am subject to rheumatism, I was afraid of future sufferings, so, having some brandy in my flask, I determined to light a fire for the purpose of heating water, and comforting myself with a hot drink. There was plenty of fuel about, and I had matches in my pocket. I began to rake the dead ashes out of the dining-room grate, when I disturbed an oblong piece of flint which rattled on to the earth. All ideas of lighting a fire were forgotten as I stood with that in my hand. It was an arrowhead. I handled it gingerly, for I knew well that it was steeped in poison, and that with this Francis had been murdered.