t he had made during
the night alone with his grandson? These were the terrible questions
which Gabriel now asked himself, and which he shrank involuntarily from
answering. And yet that doubt, the solution of which would, one way or
the other, irrevocably affect the whole future of his life, must sooner
or later be solved at any hazard!

Was there any way of setting it at rest? Yes, one way--to go instantly,
while his father was absent, and examine the hollow place under the
Merchant's Table. If his grandfather's confession had really been made
while he was in possession of his senses, this place (which Gabriel knew
to be covered in from wind and weather) had never been visited since
the commission of the crime by the perpetrator, or by his unwilling
accomplice; though time had destroyed all besides, the hair and the
bones of the victim would still be left to bear witness to the truth--if
truth had indeed been spoken. As this conviction grew on him, the young
man's cheek paled; and he stopped irresolute half-way between the hearth
and the door. Then he looked down doubtfully at the corpse on the bed;
and then there came upon him suddenly a revulsion of feeling. A wild,
feverish impatience to know the worst without another instant of delay
possessed him. Only telling Perrine that he should be back soon, and
that she must watch by the dead in his absence, he left the cottage at
once, without waiting to hear her reply, even without looking back as he
closed the door behind him.

There were two tracks to the Merchant's Table. One, the longer of the
two, by the coast cliffs; the other across the heath. But this latter
path was also, for some little distance, the path which led to the
village and the church. He was afraid of attracting his father's
attention here, so he took the direction of the coast. At one spot the
track trended inland, winding round some of the many Druid monuments
scattered over the country. This place was on high ground, and commanded
a view, at no great distance, of the path leading to the village, just
where it branched off from the heathy ridge which ran in the direction
of the Merchant's Table. Here Gabriel descried the figure of a man
standing with his back toward the coast.

This figure was too far off to be identified with absolute certainty,
but it looked like, and might well be, Francois Sarzeau. Whoever he was,
the man was evidently uncertain which way he should proceed. When
he moved forwa