He went quickly to the man's side, and the face of dead John Clive,
supine and still, stared up at him from unseeing eyes.
He had been killed by a charge of small shot fired at such close
quarters that his breast was shot nearly in two and his clothing
and flesh charred by the burning powder.
But Dunn, standing staring down at the dead man, saw not him, but
Ella. Ella fleeing away silently and furtively through the trees
as from some sight or scene of guilt and terror.
He stooped closer over the dead man. Death had been instantaneous.
Of course there could be no doubt. From one hand a piece of folded
paper had fallen.
Dunn picked it up, and saw that there was writing on it, and he
read it over slowly.
"Dear Mr. Clive,--Can you meet me as before by the oak
tomorrow at eleven? There is something I very much want to
say to you.--Yours sincerely,
"ELLA CAYLEY."
Was that, then, the lure which had brought John Clive to meet his
death? Was this the bait that had made him disregard the warnings
he had received, and come alone to so quiet and solitary a spot?
Dunn had a moment of quick envy of him; he lay so quiet and still
in the warm sunshine, with nothing to trouble or distress him any
more for ever.
Then, stumblingly and heavily, Dunn turned an went away, and his
eyes were very hard, his bearded face set like iron.
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