beauty" of Jethro Fawe grew less and less. His face became purple and
distorted, his body convulsed, then limp, and presently he lay on the
ground with a knee on his chest and fierce, bony hands at his throat.

"Don't kill him--father, don't!" cried the girl, laying restraining
hands on the old man's shoulders. He withdrew his hands and released the
body from his knee. Jethro Fawe lay still.

"Is he dead?" she whispered, awestricken. "Dead?" The old man felt the
breast of the unconscious man. He smiled grimly. "He is lucky not to be
dead."

"What shall we do?" the girl asked again with a white face.

The old man stooped and lifted the unconscious form in his arms as though
it was that of a child. "Where are you going?" she asked anxiously, as
he moved away.

"To the hut in the juniper wood," he answered. She watched till he had
disappeared with his limp burden into the depths of the trees. Then she
turned and went slowly towards the house.




CHAPTER VI

THE UNGUARDED FIRES

The public knew well that Ingolby had solved his biggest business