"And here's a comb, what a nice--"

Sir Benedict never missed that sentence, for as he bent down to pick
it up he caught sight of the body of the packman, and he started back
affrighted at the sight. "Look!" he cried, "'Tis a--the blessed saints
protect us, 'tis a murder see!" and he pointed to the tree.

"A what?" asked Sir George, coming up. "What's a murder? Where?"

"Here, see!" and à Woode pulled away the twigs which had but half
hidden the body from view.

"Heaven forfend us!" ejaculated the baron as he gazed horror-stricken
at the body. "'Tis a foul villainy, and so near Haddon, too."

"'Tis the poor Derby pedlar," exclaimed Dorothy, "and it was but
yester e'en since he was at the Hall."

"Ha! 'tis lately done, I see. Trust me, I shall see to this. We'll
have no ghosts round Haddon, Doll. To-morrow we'll enquire into it. I
must get to the root of this."

"'Tis evident it was a robbery," suggested Manners. "Even now the
knaves may be lurking round."

Sir George took the hint and the vicinity was closely examined, but,
of course, not a trace of the perpetrators could be found; so, leaving
the followers to bring on the body in the rear, the party hurried
forward to gain the friendly shelter of the Hall and to partake of the