Part 7 (1/2)

”The car might be followed,” said a voice.

”And the car will be followed,” said Giles, pus.h.i.+ng his way to the door.

”Come, Trim, we'll ride at once. Did no one see the car pa.s.s out of the village?”

No one had seen it, as most of the villagers had been inside the church and the rest in their homes.

There was some talk and suggestions, but Ware, with a nod to Morley, took a hasty departure and disappeared into the stormy night.

”He might track the car,” said the rector.

”He won't,” replied Morley bitterly; ”he'll lead Trim on a wrong scent.

He liked Miss Denham too well to let her drop into the hands of the police.”

”Then you really think she did it?” asked Drake, horrified.

”I am perfectly certain,” was the reply. ”Come into the library, and I'll show you what evidence I have.”

Meantime the hall was cleared of the eager listeners, and all present went to their homes less to sleep than to argue as to the guilt or innocence of Anne. The body of the girl was taken to her bedroom, and poor scared Mrs. Morley, roused from her bed to face this tragedy, did all that was needful, a.s.sisted by two old women, who remained behind to offer their services. This was all that could be done till dawn, and Mrs. Morley, thinking of the dead Daisy and the missing Anne, wept till the first streaks of daylight. As yet her limited understanding could not grasp the horror of the thing.

Morley conducted Mr. Drake to the library. He related how his wife had heard Anne threaten to kill Daisy, produced the anonymous letter, detailed Daisy's accusation that the governess was in love with Ware, and finally pointed out the d.a.m.ning fact of the flight. The rector was quite convinced by this reasoning that Anne was guilty.

”And now I come to think of it,” he said, stroking his shaven chin, ”Miss Kent was in church.”

”Yes, so was Miss Denham; but I don't think they sat together, as they were on the worst possible terms. Did you see Daisy?”

Drake nodded. ”She went out when I was half-way through my sermon. I remember that I felt a little annoyed that she should leave when I was doing my best to inculcate good habits for the year in my congregation.

She must have gone to pray at her father's grave, and there----” Drake stopped with sudden terror in his eyes.

”And there Miss Denham stabbed her. Ware said the wound was beneath the left shoulder-blade. That looks as though Daisy was struck from behind.

I can see it all,” cried Morley, with a shudder. ”The poor child praying by her father's grave, and the stealthy approach of that woman armed with a----”

”Ah!” interposed Drake, ”there you are. We have not yet found the weapon; and after all, Morley, the evidence is purely circ.u.mstantial. We do not know for certain that Miss Denham is the guilty person.”

”Why did she fly, then?” demanded Morley fiercely. ”If she were innocent--if she had not left the church until the others did--she would have returned, and now been in bed. But from what Trim says she fled on Ware's motor-car.”

”Humph! She can't get far on that. Such a night, too.”

And the rector walked to the window to watch the still falling snow.

Morley shook his head. ”Miss Denham knows the country for miles and miles, and Ware taught her how to drive the motor. I shouldn't be surprised if she got away after all, in spite of the weather.”

Drake looked uneasy, and placed himself before the fire with a s.h.i.+ver.

He rather admired Miss Denham, and could not yet bring himself to believe that she was guilty. Even if she were, he cherished a secret hope that she might escape the police. It was terrible to think that one woman should be dead, but it was more awful to look forward to the trial, condemnation, and hanging of the other.

”I blame Ware a good deal for this,” continued Morley gloomily. ”He openly admired Miss Denham, and encouraged her to flirt with him. A rash thing to do to one who has negro blood in her veins. I expect pa.s.sion carried her beyond herself.”

”How do you know she has negro blood?”

”She said so herself.”