through the doorway and took the slant, warm sun of the afternoon full
in his face.

He found himself in front of the only spot on the entire premises which
showed the slightest care, the mound of a grave under the shelter of two
trees whose branches were interwoven overhead in a sort of impromptu
roof. From the surface of the mound all the weeds and grasses had been
carefully cleared away, and around its edge ran a path covered with
gravel and sand. It was a wellbeaten path with the mark of heels still
comparatively fresh upon it.

The headstone itself bore not a vestige of moss, but time had cracked it
diagonally and the chiselled letters were weathered away. He studied it
with painful care, poring intently over each faint impression. He who
cared for the grave had apparently been troubled only to keep the stone
free from dirt--the lettering he must have known by heart. At length
Bard made out this inscription:


HERE SLEEPS

JOAN

WIFE OF WILLIAM DREW

SHE CHOSE THIS PLACE FOR REST