Whatsoever a Man Soweth. Le Queux William

it still preserved its rural traditions. There was no inn, and consequently little distress; the village retired early and rose with the sun, a pleasant little place prosperous under the proprietorship of the Scarcliffs.

      Along the deserted little street we searched until we came to the constable’s cottage, in the window of which a light was burning, and knocking at the door it was opened by Mr Booth, as the villagers called him, a big, round-faced officer in constabulary uniform.

      “Oh! beg pardon, gentlemen!” he exclaimed, recognising us. “I thought it were Dr Richards. They’ve telephoned from the house to call him. He ought to be here by now.”

      “What’s the matter, Booth? What has happened?” I asked, stepping into his clean little parlour where his wife greeted us with a curtsey. “Rainer came to us and said that somebody had been found dead, so we came out to hear all about it.”

      “Yes, sir, that’s right. John Harris found him some hours ago; but I was out on my beat across at Elsted, and they ’ad to fetch me. I’ve been up to Charlton Wood and seen ’im, but I’ve left ’im there till the gov’nor comes. We’ve strict orders never to move a body without the superintendent sees it first.”

      “But tell us all about it,” I urged. “Who’s the man, and what has happened?”

      “Well, John Harris was goin’ ’is round as usual, when ’is dog found a man lyin’ just inside the wood – stone dead. Shot in the chest. The sight, of course, gave ’im a fright, an’ he comes down here quick and informs my missis. She told him to keep it dark, as we didn’t want the whole village up there, an’ sent him up to the house to telephone to Midhurst to the divisional surgeon. Then they came out and found me.”

      “You don’t recognise the dead man?” I asked with trepidation.

      “No. ’E’s a stranger – maybe a tramp.”

      “You haven’t searched him?”

      “Not yet. I’m waiting for the doctor and the gov’nor. I’ve telephoned to him in Chichester, only ’e may be out on inspection-duty.”

      “And meanwhile the body is up in the wood? Is anybody there with it?”

      “No, sir. We think it better to leave it there alone, otherwise the news’ll spread and they’ll tread out whatever marks of a struggle there maybe there.” In an instant a serious thought occurred to me. Had the dead man on him any letter of Sybil’s or anything to connect her with him?

      “Well,” I said a moment later in as unconcerned a tone as I could, “we’re interested to see who the poor fellow is. Therefore we’ll walk on up in the direction of the wood, and when Richards comes you’ll overtake us.”

      “Very well, gentlemen,” was the constable’s reply. “But you won’t tell anyone yet, will you? And you won’t go into the wood and tread about? If there’s been murder committed, as there seems to have been, then we must find the guilty party,” he added seriously, this no doubt being the first really grave case he had ever had in all his eighteen years’ career.

      “Of course not,” answered Eric. “We shall wait for you, as we don’t know where the body is.”

      “Ah! I never thought o’ that,” was Booth’s reply. “All right, gentlemen, I’ll be after you as soon as the doctor comes. He’ll drive me on in his trap.” And we said good-night to Mrs Booth, a rather frail, hard-working little woman, and went once more out into the broad high road.

      “We must act quickly. Come, hurry along,” I exclaimed, as soon as we were beyond the village. “We haven’t a second to spare.”

      “Why?” asked Domville in some surprise.

      “Didn’t you say that we must save Tibbie?” I asked. “Can’t you see her serious peril? The fellow may have on him some letter or something that may incriminate her. We must get there and search him before Booth brings the doctor. What fortune that the body has been left unattended.”

      “But is it?” Eric queried. “Don’t you think that Harris has spread the news among the other keepers and one or other of them are lurking near out of curiosity? Wouldn’t it be infernally awkward for us if we were discovered rifling the dead man’s pockets?”

      “We must risk everything – for Tibbie’s sake – for the sake of the family,” I declared decisively, and impelled by my words he hurried along at my side.

      “You have given it as your opinion that they were once lovers,” I continued. “Therefore, if he had come there to blackmail her, what more natural than that he should carry with him something by which to impress her with his power over her? At all costs, therefore, we must try and satisfy ourselves that there is nothing to incriminate her.”

      “Ah! my dear Wilfrid,” he sighed. “It is really terrible – too terrible.”

      “This is not the moment to discuss the affair. We must act,” I urged, and together we got over a gate and turned into a grass field which was a shorter cut to the wood.

      “This way,” my friend directed. “The spot is up at that corner,” pointing away up the hill, where the wood loomed darkly against the sky.

      Truth to tell, I shared Eric’s fear that Harris or one of his sons might be lurking in the neighbourhood, yet I said nothing. My only thought was for the woman who had been my friend, my playmate, the dainty love of my early youth. She might be all that her enemies said of her, yet for her mother’s sake, for Jack’s sake, I meant – if possible – to save her.

      Keeping in the shadow of the hedgerows and walls, I allowed my companion to direct my footsteps. With his long practice in those boundless forests of eternal night in Equatorial Africa, he had learnt how to creep along with scarce a sound. He motioned to me to be silent, and presently we crossed the big turnip field and entered the thicket at the point where he had entered it that afternoon.

      “This will destroy my track,” he whispered. “Tread always on your toes.”

      His example I followed, malting my way through the brambles and undergrowth until, of a sudden, we came out into a small open space beneath some big trees on the edge of the wood itself, and there upon the ground I saw something lying. In the darkness I could not distinguish what it was, but Eric advanced slowly, and bending, turned to me, saying in a low whisper, —

      “Here it is. But how can we search him without a light? If we strike a match it can be seen by anyone coming up the hill.”

      I knelt at his side and ran my hands over the cold corpse. Ah! it was a gruesome moment. My eager fingers unbuttoned his jacket that was wet and clammy with blood, and quickly I put my fingers in his inner pocket. Yes! there were papers there. Quick as thought I thrust them into my own pocket, and then in the darkness searched his clothes thoroughly. In his hip-pocket I felt a small leather wallet or card-case, and in his left-hand trousers pocket was a pen-knife, both of which I secured; while Eric, making another search of his waistcoat, discovered an inner pocket which contained some paper or other, which he handed to me.

      To search a dead man in the darkness is not the easiest thing, and even though we had gone through his pockets, yet I was not satisfied.

      My friend urged me to creep away and go back to meet Booth, but I hesitated. I wanted a light in order to satisfy myself thoroughly that I had overlooked nothing, and I told him so.

      In a moment he threw off his jacket, and covering the prostrate figure with it, said, “Strike a match underneath. This will hide the light.”

      I did so, and the fickle flame from the wax vesta fell upon the hard white face, a face that in death bore a wild, desperate look that was truly horrifying.

      The pockets were, however, my chief concern, and, striking match after match, I made a methodical examination, finding a screwed-up piece of paper, the receipt for a registered letter. In feeling within his vest my hand touched something hard beneath his shirt.

      I felt again. Yes, there was something next his skin. Therefore I carefully opened his saturated shirt, and placing my hand within, drew out something about