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 forward, it was first to advance several paces toward the Merchant’s Table; then he went back again toward the distant cottages and the church.  Twice he hesitated thus; the second time pausing long before he appeared finally to take the way that led to the village.

Leaving the post of observation among the stones, at which he had instinctively halted for some minutes past, Gabriel now proceeded on his own path.  Could this man really be his father?  And if it were so, why did Francois Sarzeau only determine to go to the village where his business lay, after having twice vainly attempted to persevere in taking the exactly opposite direction of the Merchant’s Table?  Did he really desire to go there?  Had he heard the name mentioned, when the old man referred to it in his dying words?  And had he failed to summon courage enough to make all safe by removing—­This last question was too horrible to be pursued; Gabriel stifled it affrightedly in his own heart as he went on.