Part 6 (2/2)

It was like the rehearsal of a funeral procession.

Mrs. Morley had gone to bed, thinking the two girls might be reconciled in church and come home together. Her husband, not so sanguine, had remained in the library till after midnight, ready to play the part of peace-maker should any fracas occur. He appeared in the hall when poor dead Daisy was carried through the door, and stared in surprise at the spectacle.

”Great heavens!” he cried, coming forward, his ruddy face pale with sudden emotion. ”What is all this?”

Giles took upon himself the office of spokesman, which the rector, remembering that he had been engaged to the deceased, tacitly delegated to him.

”It's poor Daisy,” he said hoa.r.s.ely. ”She has been--”

”Murdered! No. Don't say murdered!”

”Yes, we found her lying on her father's grave, dead; a knife-thrust under the left shoulder-blade. She must have died almost instantaneously.”

”Dead!” muttered Morley, ghastly white. And he approached to take the handkerchief from the dead face. ”Dead!” he repeated, replacing it. Then he looked at the haggard face of Ware, at the silent group of men and the startled women standing in the doorway, where the rector was keeping them back.

”Where is her murderess?” he asked sharply.

”Murderess!” repeated Giles angrily. ”What do you mean?”

”Mean? Why, that Miss Denham has done this, and----”

”You are mad to say such a thing.”

”I'll tax her with it to her face. Where is she? Not at home, for I have been waiting to see her.”

”She's run way on Mr. Ware's motor-car,” volunteered Trim, only to be clutched violently by his master.

”Don't say that, you fool. You can't be sure of that, Mr. Morley,” he added, turning to the scared man. ”Make no remark about this until we can have a quiet talk about it.”

”But I say----”

”You can say it to the police officer in the morning.”

”She'll have escaped by that time,” whispered Trim to his master.

Giles saw the danger of Anne--supposing her to be guilty, as the groom thought her--and made up his mind at once.

”Go home, Trim, and saddle a couple of horses. We'll follow the track of the car, and when we find it----”

”You'll never find it,” put in Morley, who had been listening with all his ears. ”The falling snow must have obliterated any wheel-marks by this time. When did this occur?”

”I don't know,” replied Giles coldly. ”And instead of chattering there, you had better have the--the--” he stammered, ”the body taken into some room and attended to. Poor Daisy,” he sighed, ”what an end to your bright young life!”

Here Mr. Drake, the rector, thought it necessary to a.s.sert himself, and waved aside the throng.

”All you men and women, go to your homes,” he said. ”Nothing can be done to-night, and----”

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