"My dear lad, it is foolish to give way to grief before you are sure that there is cause for it"—so said Mr. St. Clive to Ralph Rexworth, trying to comfort the boy and restore his confidence. "I admit that this, coupled with your father's absence, looks serious; but still, we do not know what explanation there may be to it. Come, try and be brave; trust in God, even though the very worst may have befallen; idle grief is useless. Let us go to Stow Wood and examine the place; perhaps we may discover something which this man may have overlooked. Pluck up your courage, and hope for the best; and Ralph, remember, that whatever happens you have a friend in myself, who counts it a privilege to be able to do anything to show how grateful he is to you for what you did yesterday."  
Ralph, with an effort, subdued his feelings, and replied gratefully—
 
"You are very kind to me, sir. Let us do as you suggest. Will you take me to the place? I do not know anything of the country here, of course."
 
[Pg 16]
 
"I will go with you, and we will have this man accompany us, and show us exactly where he found this hat. Come, we will start at once."
 
Stow Wood was about a mile and a half from the inn, a rather dismal-looking place, where the grass grew long and dank, and where stoats and rats found a safe retreat from which to sally forth at night upon their marauding expeditions; and the grimmest, most lonely spot was around the deep pool, known locally as the Black Mere.
 
A dark, motionless pool it was; in some parts covered with green weed, surrounded by coarse grass.
 
Local superstition said that it was haunted, and though sensible people laughed at that, still the appearance of the spot was enough to give rise to such a legend.
 
"I found the hat just here, sir," said the man, bending down and pointing to a clump of blind-nettle. "You can see where it was lying, sir."
 
Mr. St. Clive and Ralph stopped and examined the place. It was clear that something resembling a struggle had taken place here, for the tall grass was trampled and beaten flat, and, in some places, the earth itself had been cut up, as though by the heels of boots. Mr. St. Clive felt very grave—if ever anything seemed to tell of a tragedy, this did—and he said to Ralph—
 
"My poor boy, I must own that there seems every appearance of foul play here. We shall have to see[Pg 17] the police. You are quite sure that your father told you nothing, however unimportant it may seem, which might give us an inkling of where he was going?"
 
"He said nothing, sir," answered Ralph sadly. "It is all a mystery to me. But now we are here we may as well learn all that we can."
 
"What more can we learn, Ralph?" asked Mr. St. Clive. "This silent spot will not speak and tell us what happened."
 
"Not to you perhaps, but it will speak to me, sir. I have been brought up on the plains, remember, and grass and trees may tell me more than they can tell to you. First, sir, is this a direct road to anywhere? I mean, is it a general thoroughfare?"
 
Mr. St. Clive shook his head.
 
"No, Ralph. It is a rarely frequented spot. The village people are half afraid of it. It is a short cut from Stow Ormond to Great Stow, and it would argue that your father must have been familiar with the place for him to have taken it."
 
"Where else besides Great Stow does it lead to, sir?"
 
"Why, my lad, to nowhere in particular. It takes you out the other side of Stow Common, and, of course, from there you can go where you will."
 
Ralph nodded.
 
"So that we may suppose that any one crossing here would be going to Great Stow?"
 
[Pg 18]
 
"Yes. It would save him going all round through Little Stow."
 
"Very well, sir. Now we will go to the side of the wood nearest to the inn."
 
"Why?" asked Mr. St. Clive in surprise.
 
"Because I want to know whether my father crossed this place in going from the inn; and if so, I want to try and see where he went to. There is a lot to learn here, sir; but I must start at the beginning."
 
Mr. St. Clive was impressed, though he could not understand what Ralph meant; and so together they went back to that part of the wood which bordered upon Stow Ormond, and here Ralph began to walk to and fro, carefully surveying the grass, until presently he stopped and said—
 
"My father did cross here. He got over that stile."
 
"How do you know, Ralph?" asked Mr. St. Clive. "I confess that I see nothing to indicate it."
 
"Why, it is quite clear, sir," answered the boy. "See, the ground here is soft and muddy, and this is the imprint of my father's foot here in this soft red clay. That has taken the mark like wax. That is his square-toed boot."
 
Mr. St. Clive had to admit that so far the boy was correct. Some one wearing a square-toed boot had stepped into a little heap of clay, and the footmark was quite clearly defined.
 
"Now," Ralph went on, pointing to the stile, "here is a mark of clay on the stile, so he must have crossed[Pg 19] here, and here the grass has been trodden down as he went on."
 
This latter sign was nothing like so clear, but the boy, used to reading tracks in the far-off West, showed the man how the blades of grass were turned from the weight that had trodden on them; and as they walked forward the traces became even plainer, leading past the pool, and on towards the common; and Ralph gave a cry as he studied the ground.
 
"Here are two people walking now," he said; "and one wears pointed boots!"
 
"The man who brought the hat to us," suggested Mr. St. Clive.
 
"No, sir. He wore big boots, with nails in them. You can see the marks of those quite plainly, and he came here last of all."
 
"How do you know that?" demanded Mr. St. Clive, very interested.
 
"Because the marks that he has made are over all the others," was the explanation. "Let us go on."
 
They followed the traces, faint though they seemed, until they reached the common; and here, though Ralph studied the ground for nearly an hour, he could discover nothing. Several roads crossed the common, and the men must have traversed one of these, but which one there was nothing to show.
 
Back to the pool they went, and here Ralph paused; and Mr. St. Clive, looking at him inquiringly, said—
 
[Pg 20]
 
"Well, what now, my boy? Have you learnt anything?"
 
"Yes—a lot, sir; but I do not understand it. Let me tell you what these signs tell me. My father crossed here alone, and went somewhere across the common, and I do not think that it could have been very far away. Then he came back alone——"
 
"But the second man?" queried Mr. St. Clive.
 
"One moment, sir. He came alone, and he stopped to light another cigar just here. Look, here is the match half-burnt, and the stump of the one he threw away."
 
"Yes; go on," said Mr. St. Clive, nodding his head. "You have reason for what you say."
 
"Now, some one followed my father back, and he wore rather small boots with pointed toes——"
 
"Plenty of gentlemen do that. I wear such boots myself, you see."
 
"I know, sir. This man was dodging my father, and when he stopped to light his cigar the man stopped too, just over there behind that hedge."
 
"My dear lad, what makes you say that?"
 
"The mark of his feet are there, and I think he fired at my father more than once. He fired once and missed, I know, because this tree has got a bullet in the bark, and I am going to have it out! Then he ran forward, and there must have been a fight, and father fell just here. Look, you can surely see where he lay? See the length where the grass is crushed;[Pg 21] and see these two marks—a heel and a toe; that means, that some one knelt beside him, and——. Look, look, sir!"
 
A glimmer of something bright in the long grass caught Ralph's eye, and, stooping, he picked up a watch and chain, and a purse, which had evidently been thrown hastily aside.
 
"Whoever killed my father searched him, and wanted something in particular. It was no robber, for then he would have taken these and not thrown them down."
 
Mr. St. Clive could only look on in silence. There was something very strange in the boy thus unfolding the incidents of a strange mystery, reading them from almost invisible signs upon the grass. And Ralph continued—
 
"Then the man ran away and came back with a cart—you can see the marks of the wheels. See, they come close up here! And here he drove off again. I suppose that father was in the cart—that is what he brought it for. The horse went a bit lame, too, in the off forefoot. That is all the place can tell me, sir."
 
All! Mr. St. Clive was amazed that the boy was able to see so much, and he followed his reasoning, noting how one footmark partly obliterated another, proving that it had been made after it. That a strange meeting had taken place in that lonely wood seemed indeed all too likely, but beyond that all was[Pg 22] mystery. Why had Mr. Rexworth entered this place, whither was he going, and who was the man who had come after him?
 
Ralph had his knife out, and was busily cutting away the bark of one of the trees which stood close by. His action proved that he had not been wrong in his conjecture—a flattened piece of lead was embedded there, and Frank put it into his pocket.
 
"Perhaps one day that may tell me some more," he said.
 
But there was nothing more to do there, though Mr. St. Clive said that he would see that the wood was searched through, and that the mere was dragged; and then, trying to speak comforting words to Ralph, he returned with him to Stow Ormond. And as they entered the inn, a tall, handsome gentleman, with one hand in a sling, came out, and seeing Mr. St. Clive, greeted him with: "Hallo, St. Clive, I hear that your little girl had a narrow escape last night!"
 
Mr. St. Clive frowned.
 
"Yes, from your bull, Lord Elgert. You ought to have the brute properly guarded. If it had not been for this young gentleman, Irene might have been killed."
 
Lord Elgert stared at Ralph, and his look was not pleasant.
 
"Oh, is this the young man who noosed him? Well, he has broken the bull's knees; but, however, it is fortunate that he was at hand. By the way, what is[Pg 23] this that Simon tells me. Something has happened in Stow Wood?"
 
"I fear so," replied Mr. St. Clive; and he narrated briefly what they had discovered.
 
Was it fancy, or did Ralph notice that handsome face turn a shade paler when mention was made of the bullet cut from the tree? Somehow the boy did not like this wealthy gentleman, though he knew not why he should regard him with enmity. When Mr. St. Clive had concluded, Lord Elgert said—
 
"Dear, dear! How strange! But still, you do not know that anything has happened. You will tell the police, of course. Can you give a description of your father, my boy?"
 
"I can show his likeness, sir," replied Ralph, taking out his pocket-book. "Here it is!"
 
Lord Elgert took the photograph, but as he looked at it he gave a whistle of surprise.
 
"So this is the missing man?" he said. "St. Clive, perhaps, I can tell you something of interest. Last night my place was broken into, and I woke up to hear a man in my study. I went down and switched on the electric light, so that I could see the rascal quite plainly. He turned and tried to bolt, but I closed with him, and in the rough-and-tumble he managed to cut my hand open and clear off. St. Clive, I am positive that the man was none other than the original of this likeness, and——"
 
He was interrupted by a passionate cry of pain and[Pg 24] anger, and Ralph, snatching the photograph from his hand, stood confronting him with blazing eyes.
 
"It is false!" he cried. "You know it is false! I believe that you are responsible for my father's disappearance!"