something heavy. But it was very
dark. The blow was aimed at his head, but fell upon the heavy padded
frieze of his ulster greatcoat, grazing the brim of his hat as it passed
and knocking it off his head. Mr. Juxon staggered and reeled to one side.
At the same instant--it all happened in the space of two seconds,
Stamboul sprang past his master and his bulk, striking the squire at the
shoulder just as he was staggering from the blow he had received, sent
him rolling into the ditch; by the same cause the hound's direction as he
leaped was just so changed that he missed his aim and bounded past the
murderer into the darkness. Before the gigantic beast could recover
himself and turn to spring again, Walter Goddard, who had chanced never
to see Stamboul and little suspected his presence, leaped the ditch and
fled rapidly through the dark shadow. But death was at his heels. Before
the squire, who was very little hurt, could get upon his feet, the
bloodhound had found the scent and, uttering his deep-mouthed baying
note, sprang upon the track of the flying man. Mr. Juxon got across the
ditch and followed him into the gloom.

"Stamboul! Stamboul!" he roared as he ran. But before he had gone thirty
yards he heard a heavy fall. The hound's cry ceased and a short scream
broke the silence.

A moment later the squire was dragging the infuriated animal from the
prostrate body of Walter Goddard. Stamboul had tasted blood; it was no
easy matter to make him relinquish his prey. The cloud passed from the
moon, driven before the blast, and a ray of light fell through the trees
upon the scene. Juxon stood wrestling with his hound, holding to his
heavy collar with both hands with all his might. He dared not let go for
an instant, well knowing that the frenzied beast would tear his victim
limb from limb. But Juxon's hands were strong, and though Stamboul
writhed and his throat rattled he could not free himself. The squire
glanced at the body of the fallen man, just visible in the flickering
moonlight. Walter Goddard lay quite still upon his back. If he was badly
wounded it was not possible to say where the wound was.

It was a terrible moment. Mr. Juxon felt that he could not leave the man
thus, not knowing whether he were alive or dead; and yet while all his
strength was exerted to the full in controlling the bloodhound, it was
impossible to approach a step nearer. He was beginning to think that he
should be obliged to take Stamboul to t