"Let us go to the house--" she faltered, "I cannot bear it."

"I will know the worst," said Margie, hoarsely, and they went on
together.

It was so singular, but no one had thought to look within the graveyard
enclosure; perhaps if they had thought of it, they judged it impossible
that a murderer should select such a locality for the commission of his
crime.

Mr. Darby opened the gate, entered the yard, and stopped. So did the
others. All saw at once that the search was ended. Across the path
leading to the graves of Mr. and Mrs. Harrison, lay Paul Linmere. He was
white and ghastly; his forehead bare, and his sightless eyes wide open,
looking up to the sun of noon-day. His right hand lay on his breast, his
left still tightly grasped the turf upon which it had fixed its hold in
the cruel death-agony. His garments were stiff with his own blood, and
the dirk knife, still buried to the hilt in his heart, told the story of
his death.

Leo crouched a little way off, his eyes jubilant, his tail beating the
ground, evincing the greatest satisfaction. All present knew that the dog
rejoiced at the death of his master.

Alexandrine took a step toward the dead man, her back to the
horror-stricken group by the gate. She stopped suddenly, and lifted
something from the ground.

Darby, alert and watchful, was by her side in a moment.