Grant, too, was slowly regaining poise.

"I hardly know what I am saying," he muttered. "At any rate, bring a rug.
I'll mount guard till you return with the policeman. There can be no
doubt, I suppose, that this poor creature is dead."

"Dead as a stone," said Bates with conviction. "Why, her's bin in there
hours," and he nodded toward the water. "Besides, if I knows anythink of
a crack on t'head, her wur outed before she went into t'river.... But who
i' t'world can she be?"

"If you don't fetch that rug I'll go for it myself," said Grant,
whereupon Bates made off.

He was soon back again with a carriage rug, which Grant helped him to
spread over the dripping body. Then he hastened to the village, taking a
path that avoided the house.

The lawn and river bank of The Hollies could only be overlooked from the
steep wooded cliff opposite, and none but an adventurous boy would ever
think of climbing down that almost impassable rampart of rock,
brushwood, and tree-roots. At any rate, when left alone with the ghastly
evidence of a tragedy, Grant troubled only to satisfy himself that no one
was watching from the house. Assured on that point, he lifted a corner of
the rug, and, apparently, forced himself to scrutinize the dead woman's
face. He seemed to search therein for some reassuring token, but found
none, because he shook his head, dropped the rug, and walked a few paces
dejectedly.

Then, hardly knowing what he was about, he relighted his pipe, but had