from his clenched fingers, and gently pressed the lids over his
glazing eyes. Not a word was uttered, but while the seconds sadly
regarded the stiffening form, the surviving principal coolly drew
out a cigar, lighted and placed it between his lips. The child's
eyes had wandered to the latter from the pool of blood, and now in a
shuddering cry she broke the silence:

"Murderer!"

The party looked around instantly, and for the first time perceived
her standing there in their midst, with loathing and horror in the
gaze she fixed on the perpetrator of the awful deed. In great
surprise he drew back a step or two, and asked gruffly:

"Who are you? What business have you here?"

"Oh! how dared you murder him? Do you think God will forgive you on
the gallows?"

He was a man probably twenty-seven years of age--singularly fair,
handsome, and hardened in iniquity, but he cowered before the
blanched and accusing face of the appalled child; and ere a reply
could be framed, his friend came close to him.

"Clinton, you had better be off; you have barely time to catch the
Knoxville train, which leaves Chattanooga in half an hour. I would
advise you to make a long stay in New York, for there will be
trouble when Dent's brother hears of this morning's work."

"Aye! Take my word for that, and put the Atlantic between you and