the ring of that pale illumination he saw the tall tombstone, and beneath it the figure of a woman lying face downward on the snow. Trim gave an exclamation of astonishment, but Giles set his mouth and suppressed all signs of emotion. He wondered if the figure was that of Anne or of Daisy, and whether the woman, whomsoever she was, was dead or alive. Suddenly he started back with horror. From a wound under the left shoulder-blade a crimson stream had welled forth, and the snow was stained with a brilliant red. The staring eyes of the groom looked over his shoulder as he turned the body face upwards. Then Giles uttered a cry. Here was Daisy Kent lying dead – murdered – on her father's grave!
CHAPTER V
AFTERWARDS
Never before had any event created such a sensation in the village of Rickwell. From the choir boy and his mother the news quickly spread. Also Giles had to call in the aid of the rector to have the body of the unfortunate girl carried to The Elms. In a short time the churchyard was filled with wondering people, and quite a cortege escorted the corpse. 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 hoarsely. "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 assert himself, and waved aside the throng.
"All you men and women, go to your homes," he said. "Nothing can be done to-night, and – "
"The car might be followed," said a voice.
"And the car will be followed," said Giles, pushing his way to the door. "Come, Trim, we'll ride at once. Did no one see the car pass 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, assisted 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 damning 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 circumstantial. 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
