ot returned, but no doubt he had stopped
at the mill all night watching the men at work. His absence scarcely
occasioned her a moment's thought. In a very few minutes she was
downstairs in the kitchen, where the constable was standing waiting for
her. She knew him by sight, for Marsden possessed but four constables,
and they were all well known characters.

"What is it?" she asked; "has anything happened to my son?"

"No, mum," the constable said in a tone of surprise, "I didn't know as
he wasn't in bed and asleep, but I have some bad news for you, mum; it's
a bad job altogether."

"What is it?" she asked again; "is it my husband?"

"Well, mum, I am sorry to say as it be. A chap came in early this
morning and told me as summat had happened, so I goes out, and half a
mile from the town I finds it just as he says."

"But what is it?" Mrs. Mulready gasped.

"Well, mum, I am sorry to have to tell you, but there was the gig all
smashed to atoms, and there was the little black mare lying all in a
heap with her neck broke, and there was--" and he stopped.

"My husband!" Mrs. Mulready gasped.

"Yes, marm, I be main sorry to say it were. There, yards in front of
them, were Mr. Mulready just stiff and cold. He'd been flung right out
over the hoss' head. I expect he had fallen on his head and must have
been killed roight out; and the worst of it be, marm, as it warn't an
accident, for there, tight across the road, about eighteen inches above
the ground, was a rope stretched tight atween a gate on either side.
It was plain enough to see what had happened. The mare had come tearing
along as usual at twelve mile an hour in the dark, and she had caught
the rope, and in course there had been a regular smash."

The pretty color had all gone from Mrs. Mulready's face as he began his
story, but a ghastly pallor spread over her face, and a look of deadly
horror came into her eyes as he continued.

"Oh, Ned, Ned," she wailed, "how could you!" and then she fell senseless
to the ground.

The constable raised her and placed her in a chair.

"Are you sure the master's dead?" the servant asked, wiping her eyes.

"Sure enough," the constable said. "I have sent the doctor off already,
but it's no good, he's been dead hours and hours. But," he continued,
his professional instincts coming to the surface, "what did she mean by
saying, 'Oh, Ned, how could you!' She asked me, too, first about him;
ain't he at home?"

"No, he ain't," th