Part 48 (1/2)

With a cunningness far out of the ordinary, the poor girl crept along the shrubbery in the direction of the barn. This structure was locked up. From the barn she turned to the house, and, watching her chance, she entered by the cellar-way, which chanced to be standing open.

It was dark and damp below stairs, and the girl s.h.i.+vered as she stood there, trying to make up her mind what to do next. Should she go right up and try to find her father? Supposing her stepmother was there, would she try to make more trouble?

Margaret mounted the stairs and entered the lower hall of the house.

The blinds were closed, and all was dark. She moved towards the room where the body of her father had been found.

At that moment the woman who had been left at the mansion came from the kitchen. She caught one glimpse of the girl and set up a shriek.

”It's a ghost!” she cried. ”A ghost! Heaven help me!”

The cry was so piercing and so genuine, it roused Margaret from the stupor in which she was moving.

”My father! He is dead, after all! Oh, daddy!” she screamed, and then turned, brushed past the woman, and sped out of the back door of the mansion.

”What's the matter?” came from the policeman who was on guard.

”She--a ghost!” stammered Mrs. Morse. ”I saw her!”

”Her? Who?”

”Margaret Langmore! Or else her ghost!” The woman had gone white, and was shaking from head to feet.

”Where?”

”Here.”

”When?”

”Just now!”

”It can't have been the girl. She is in bed, under the doctor's care.”

”But I saw her!” insisted the woman.

”We'll take a look around,” answered the guardian of the law.

They commenced the search, but long before this was done Margaret had run back to the river. She dropped into the rowboat, and rowed off as swiftly as her failing strength would permit.

”Daddy is dead, after all!” she moaned, over and over again. ”And she is dead, too! I remember it all, now. And the blood! Oh, I must get away, or they will hang me, or electrocute me!”

Five minutes more and the rowboat came to grief on some rocks close to the side of the stream. It commenced to fill with water, and Margaret had to wade ash.o.r.e, which she did, slowly and deliberately, like one in a dream. Then she pa.s.sed into the woods. Coming to a thick clump of bushes, she sank down exhausted, and there merciful sleep overtook her.

How long she slept, she did not know. The low growl of a dog aroused her. She sat up, and the growl of the dog became a heavy bark.

Looking from out of the clump of bushes, she saw a mastiff standing there, eying her suspiciously.

”What is it, boy?” she heard a heavy voice ask. ”A woodchuck? Never mind now, come on.”

But the mastiff continued to bark, and came close enough to sniff at Margaret's foot. She essayed to draw back, but was too weak to do so.