almost everybody had a thought of Clarkson haunting his mind, and an
uneasy desire to find out the truth, entirely incompatible with the
clearness of the circumstantial evidence.

It was already nearly nine o'clock when Margery going from the Cottage
to Mr. Leigh's, on some errand to his housekeeper, brought back with her
the story which a passing acquaintance had carried so far. She came into
the parlour full of the not unpleasant sensation of having a piece of
strange and horrible news to tell.

Mrs. Costello had left the room for a moment and Lucia was alone,
sitting rather drearily looking into the fire, with her work fallen
into her lap, when Margery came in.

"Miss Lucia, there's an awful thing happened."

"What, Margery?" Lucia half smiled, for Margery loved marvels, and made
much of them.

"Doctor Morton is dead."

"Impossible! Hush, don't say it."

"It is true, miss. This afternoon."

"But how? It is incredible."

"He was found, Miss Lucia, lying dead by the roadside a piece beyond
Dawson's mill. And they found the man that did it."