“‘Just so,’ said Voltaire.  ’Then Kaffar went out, and Mr. Blake went after him.’

“‘After him!  Where?’

“’Mr. Temple and I did not like the look on his face, and we followed him.  I traced his footsteps along the high-road for a long while, and then we lost sight of them.  We knew not where to go, when Mr. Temple thought he heard voices away in the distance.  We went in the direction of the sound, and came to Drearwater Pond.’

“‘Drearwater Pond?  That terrible place to which we rode the other day?’

“‘The same, gentle lady.’

“‘And then?’

“’When we came there we found Mr. Blake in a reclining position, with a bloody knife in his hand.  I recognized it as belonging to Kaffar.  I saw something lying on the ground, and, on picking it up, found it to be a scarf which Kaffar had been wearing this very night.  It was twisted and soiled, and on it were spots of blood.  Footmarks were to be seen on the edge of the deep pond, indicating a struggle; but Kaffar was nowhere to be seen.’

“‘It cannot be!  It cannot be!’ said Miss Forrest.  ‘But what then?’

“’I asked Mr. Blake questions.  I accused him of many things, but he denied nothing.’

“‘Denied nothing?’

“’Nothing, Miss Forrest.  He tacitly admitted everything.  I wish I could think otherwise; but oh, I am afraid my friend, my only friend, lies murdered at the bottom of Drearwater Pond, and murdered by Mr. Blake.’

“‘It cannot be!’ cried Miss Forrest.  ’Mr. Blake could never, never do so.  There is some mistake.’

“He took something from his pocket which was wrapped in a handkerchief.  He removed this wrapping, and there revealed the knife you held in your hand.

“‘This blood cries out for vengeance,’ he said; ’ay, and it shall be avenged too.’

“She gave a scream as if in pain.  ‘Why, what will you do?’ she cried.

“‘Were I in Egypt, my vengeance would be speedy,’ he said, his light eyes glittering; ’but I am debarred from that here.  Still, there is a means of vengeance.  Your English law is stern.  To-morrow the whole country shall shudder because of this dark deed, and to-morrow night that man, Justin Blake, shall sleep in a felon’s cell’

“‘No, no!’ she cried.  ‘Not that.  Have mercy.’

“‘Yes, yes!’ he said, his voice husky with passion.  ’What mercy did he have upon my friend?  I will have vengeance, and my vengeance is just.’”

Try as I might, I could not help shuddering at this.  A felon’s cell!  My name mentioned with loathing!  ’Twas too horrible.  I tried to conquer myself, however, and to tell Tom to go on with his recital.  He continued—­

“‘Does any one know of these things besides you two?’ she said at length.

“‘No,’ replied Voltaire.  ‘No one has had a chance of knowing.’”

Tom stopped in his recital, as if he would rather not tell what followed.