ng outside the window and a quick shudder passed
through the slight body. She went to Stella's side and saw only a heap
of stones for road-mending. They must have been newly flung down
there, for she did not remember to have seen them when last she passed
this way.

Was it possible that Stella knew? That her eyes saw another heap of
stones, and upon them a dead man lying, his blood turning the sharp
stones red?

CHAPTER XX

SIR SHAWN HAS A VISITOR

The sun was low, almost out of sight, as Lady O'Gara climbed up the
hill from Waterfall Cottage to her own South lodge. Through the bars
of the gate she caught a glimpse of a red ball going low, criss-crossed
with the bare branches of the trees. The air nipped. There was going
to be frost. Before she left she had seen the lamps lit at Waterfall
Cottage and bidden Stella lock herself in and only open to a voice she
knew.

She had delayed, washing up the tea-cups with Stella, trying to
distract the girl from her grief to the natural simple things of life:
and all the time she had felt that Stella longed for her to be gone.

She had narrowly escaped being caught in the dusk--without the
flashlight Terry had given her, which she usually carried when she went
out these short afternoons. Was she growing as stupid as the
villagers? She had glanced nervously at the heap of stones as she
passed them by where the water made a loud roaring noise hurrying over
the weir. She had to remind herself that it was not really dark but
only dusk, and that she had never been afraid of the dark. Rather she
had loved the kind night, the mantle with which God covers His restless
earth that she may sleep. As she went up the hill she thought uneasily
of the tramp who had passed the window of Waterfall Cottage a few hours
earlier. The shambling figure had a menace for her. She could not
keep from glancing over her shoulder and was glad to come to her own
gate.

She called through the bars and Patsy Kenny came to open for her.
Seeing him she sighed. More complications. Her mind was too weary to
tackle the matter of Patsy's unfortunate attachment to Susan Horridge.
Not that she doubted Patsy. She had a queer confidence that Patsy
would not hurt the woman he loved. People would talk, were talking in
all probability. What a world it was! What a world!

Of late Patsy had refrained from visiting the South lodge so far as she
knew. Sir Shawn had said to her only a day or t