quietly as possible, and follow the progress of
these strange obsequies. Captain Harlbutt and
the keeper, as the most experienced bushmen,
led the way. The latter, in a few minutes,
reported that the party had entered the copse—
at a somewhat open part—in the rear, and
might be seen by us without discovery,
completing the ceremonial of burial. The grave
must have been previously prepared—for
scarcely had we taken up our positions, when
the body was lifted from the bier, and lowered
by means of long white scarfs deep into the
earth. This done, there was a pause; when,
apparently at a signal from Corsellis, Morgan le
Fay approached the edge of the grave—leading
the dog lion, from which the others seemed to
shrink instinctively. She wound her arms in the
beast's shaggy mane, drawing him fearlessly
towards her, until his sharp nose and glowing
eyes were over her shoulder. As she held
him in this attitude, Corsellis made a sudden
step forward. There was a gleam of something
—a blow—a broken roar—and the animal rolled
over and over into the open grave. The latter
was then carefully filled and smoothed down,
level with the surrounding surface; leaves and
sprays were scattered lightly over it; and then
Corsellis gave his arm to his lady, and the whole
party returned to the mansion: the servants
chatting gaily, and apparently only deterred by
the stately presence of their master stalking on
before, from enjoying a dance by moonlight.

So odd and unnatural had been the whole
affair, that we could have easily fancied it a
dream. No one present attempted a solution
of the mystery. All we could do, was, to
note by measurement the exact spot of this
extraordinary interment; after which we returned
home, consulting as to the steps that should
next be taken.

A meeting was arranged for the following
day at Fairwoods, when various opinions were
expressed: the prevailing one being to the
effect that some deed of violence had been
perpetrated, to which it was our obvious duty
to invite the attention of the authorities. This
point being conceded, who should take the
initiative? There was a general disinclination
to commence the remarkable depositions which
would have to be made, before any action could
be taken having reference to a charge of
murder. After much discussion, it was resolved
to leave matters as they were, for at least one
day; thus affording an opportunity of ascertaining,
through Harper, what effect, if any, the
removal of Mournivale Stone-Eyes had wrought
upon the household.

On the evening of the succeeding day the
steward attended, as had been agreed, at Mr.
Tincture's lodgings; Mr. Harlbutt and his
nephew, Mr. Fanshawe (a neighbouring
magistrate), and myself, being also present.

The statement Harper had to make rendered
the mystery still more profound and complex
than before. The preceding day had, to all
appearance, been one of jubilee at Mournivale.
Sir George Corsellis had gone out riding in the
forenoon, actually accompanied by his lady,
who was mounted on a beautiful Spanish
jennet, lately arrived in Sir George's stables.
The groom who attended them reported that
they had paid more than one visit to distant
country residences, galloping across the country,
laughing like children, and apparently in
the very highest glee. Her ladyship was still
veiled, but she had spoken to each and all of
the domestics in the course of the day, making
them some presents, and ordering that they
should have a little feast, to celebrate, as she
said, the most joyous event in her existence.

Of Mournivale Stone-Eyes not one word
was said. It would seem, however, that her
terrible mysterious influence was no longer an
object of dread. The servants went where they
pleased about the mansion. Harper himself—
in company with Eisa the Creole, and two or
three of the other domestics, who were ordered
to rearrange some furniture in the upper
rooms—had visited almost every apartment in
the house, without detecting any trace of her
occupancy. Stone-Eyes was unquestionably
gone! But, whither?

Before the council broke up, it was settled
that Squire Harlbutt and Mr. Fanshawe should,
next morning, wait upon the proprietor of
Mournivale, and commence operations by referring to
the subject of the poisoned tart: the agency of
poison being, in Mr. Harlbutt's mind, inseparably
associated with the midnight scene we had
witnessed.

CHAPTER VI.

THE countenance of the big Dutch porter
exhibited as much surprise as its natural
construction permitted, when the two magistrates
requested, in tones slightly peremptory, an
audience of his master.

After a moment's delay, they were invited to
enter, and conducted to a magnificent library,
in which sat Sir George, alone. That gentleman
received them with frigid politeness, and so
manifestly looked for an immediate explanation
of their visit, that Mr. Harlbutt at once plunged
into the matter.

Sir George raised his bushy eyebrows with
apparently unfeigned astonishment, but made no
remark.

"We are desirous, sir, of obtaining from you,
if willing to afford it, authority to contradict
in your name certain strange rumours afloat in
the neighbourhood respecting—— "

"Well, gentlemen, 'respecting'——-?"

"Respecting," resumed Mr. Harlbutt, coolly
putting on his spectacles, in order to scan the
general's face more minutely, " the disappearance
of a member of your household!"

Corsellis gave a slight start. Seated with his
back to the light, it was not easy to detect any
change of countenance. It was clear, however,
that he was agitated.

"Allow me to remind you, Sir George," said
Mr. Fanshawe, " that we do not wish to press
upon you any question you are indisposed to
answer; but permit me to ask you, is the use
of deadly poisons permitted in your family?"