There was a pause. Mr. Carlyle looked keenly at Richard there in the
moonlight.

"Very soon, almost in the same moment, as it seemed, some one came
panting and tearing along the path leading from the cottage. It was
Thorn. His appearance startled me: I had never seen a man show more
utter terror. His face was livid, his eyes seemed starting, and his lips
were drawn back from his teeth. Had I been a strong man I should surely
have attacked him. I was mad with jealousy; for I then saw that Afy had
sent me away that she might entertain him."

"I thought you said this Thorn never came but at dusk," observed Mr.
Carlyle.

"I never knew him to do so until that evening. All I can say is, he was
there then. He flew along swiftly, and I afterwards heard the sound of
his horse's hoofs galloping away. I wondered what was up that he should
look so scared, and scutter away as though the deuce was after him; I
wondered whether he had quarreled with Afy. I ran to the house, leaped
up the two steps, and--Carlyle--I fell over the prostrate body of
Hallijohn! He was lying just within, on the kitchen floor, dead. Blood
was round about him, and my gun, just discharged, was thrown near. He
had been shot in the side."

Richard stopped for breath. Mr. Carlyle did not speak.

"I called to Afy. No one answered. No one was in the lower room; and
it seemed that no one was in the upper. A sort of panic came over me, a
fear. You know they always said at home I was a coward: I could not have