What was it that held his steps?

[Illustration: HIS EYE FELL ON THE INTERIOR OF THE PORCH, AND HE STARTED
AND STOPPED.]

An object on the ground--Victoria Vane, lying at full length, with open,
staring eyes, her masses of yellow hair stained a horrible crimson.

She lay within the porch, while at her side was a basket overturned, its
contents scattered about, as though she had been holding it in her lap at
the time of the accident.

Was it an accident?

As soon as he could recover his self-possession, August Bordine sat down
his gun and bent over the prostrate girl.

There was a subdued horror in his eyes as he gazed.

Blood had trickled out in a little pool from a wound in her neck, that
wound had proved the death of poor Victoria Vane.

Who had made it?

Suicide!

This was the young man's first thought--yet he soon convinced himself
that this was not likely.