Well, as you may suppose, he was heavy to lift; and we two women
being alone in the house, I told Ann to run up to the vicarage or to
Miss Belcher's, and get word sent for a doctor, and also to bring a
couple of men, if possible, to carry him into the house. I had
scarcely bidden her to do this when she cried out, screaming, that
her hand was damp, and with blood. 'You silly woman!' said I, though
trembling myself from head to foot. But when we fetched a candle, we
saw blood running down the step, and your father--my poor Harry!--
lying in a pool of it--a veritable pool of it. Ah, Harry, Harry!"
exclaimed Miss Plinlimmon, relapsing into that literary manner which
was second nature with her, "such a moment occurring in the pages of
fiction, may stimulate a sympathetic thrill not entirely disagreeable
to the reader, but in real life I wouldn't go through it again if you
offered me a fortune."

"Plinny," I cried--"Plinny, what is this you are telling me about
blood?"

"Your poor father, Harry--But be sure their sins will find them out!
Mr. Rogers is setting the runners on track--he is most kind.
Already he has had two hundred handbills printed. We are offering a
hundred pounds reward--more if necessary--and the whole country is
up--"

"Plinny dear"--I tried to steady my voice as I stood and faced her--
"are you trying to tell me that--that my father has been murdered?"

She bowed her head and cast her apron over it, sobbing.

"Excuse me, Harry--but in such moments!--And they have found the