Rogers and the constable knelt together over the body of a man half
hidden in a tangle of brambles.

The corpse's feet pointed towards the path, and I recognized the
shoes, as also the sea-cloth trousers, before Mr. Rogers--cursing in
his hurry rather than at the pain of his lacerated hands--tore the
brambles aside and revealed its face--the face of Captain Coffin,
blue-cold in death and staring up from its pillow of rotted leaves.

I felt myself reeling. But it was Mr. Goodfellow who reeled against
me, and would have fallen if Hosken the constable had not sprung upon
one knee and caught him.

"If you ask my opinion," I heard Hosken saying as he raised himself
and held Mr. Goodfellow upright, steadying him, "'tis a case o'
guilty conscience, an' I never in my experience saw a clearer."



CHAPTER XIII.


CLUES IN A TANGLE.

"Guilty or not," said Mr. Jack Rogers, sharply, "I'll take care he
doesn't escape. Run you down to Miss Belcher's kennels, and fetch
along a couple of men--any one you can pick up--to help. And don't
make a noise as you go past the cottage; the women there are
frightened enough already. Come to think of it, I heard some fellows
at work as I drove by just now, thinning timber in the plantation