The quiet village of Marshely, in Essex, was getting to be as well-known through the length and breadth of England as Westminster Abbey. The murder of Captain Huxham had caused a sensation, the death of Durgo and Vand had created another one, but the discovery of the ghastly scarecrow which had warned the birds from the corn-fields of Bleacres, startled everyone greatly. The news flew like wild fire through the village, and in less than an hour the inhabitants were surveying the terrible object.  
Shortly the of the village who had Dutton—in disgrace for his share in the escape of Mrs. Vand—appeared, and, armed with the authority of the law and assisted by willing hands, removed the poor of humanity from the pole whereupon it had hung for so long. The explanation of its being there was easy. Captain Huxham, after he had committed the crime, and while Tunks and Pence were away, the one through horror and the other through sheer worry, had carried out the dead body to fasten it to the pole. He undressed the straw-stuffed figure, with which everyone was familiar, and having destroyed it arrayed the of Edwin Lister in its military clothes. Then he pulled the grey felt cap well over the face so that it should not be suspected as being that of a human being, and bound the dead to the pole. Of course, no one, not even the Vands, suspected that the figure was other than what it had always been, and it said much for the cruel of Captain Jabez Huxham that he had selected so clever a mode of disposing of the body. Had he thrown it into the boundary channel it might have been fished out; had he it in the house, it would probably have been discovered; and had he buried it in the garden near the house, it might have been dug up. But no one ever dreamed that the scarlet-coated scarecrow was the man who was wanted. Huxham had been struck down almost immediately after he had put his scheme into execution, and it was doubtful if he had intended to leave the body there. Probably he did, as it was by the corn, and when the field was reaped he doubtless intended to get rid of the corpse in some equally ingenious way. The removal of the scarecrow would have excited no comment when the fields were reaped, as its career of usefulness would then be at an end. The dead man's clothes still clothed his corpse under the scarecrow's garments.
 
One result of the discovery was that everyone not to buy the corn which had flourished under so terrible a . Far and wide the newspapers spread the report of the discovery, and Timson became aware that a prejudice existed against making bread of the wheat grown on the Bleacres ground. Not wishing to spend more money, since he would have to account for everything he did to Mrs. Vand, he withdrew the labourers. The Farm now became solitary indeed, for no one would go near it, especially after night-fall. The golden fields of wheat spread round it like a sea, and the ancient house stood up greyly and lonely like a thing accursed. And indeed it was looked upon as damned by the villagers.
 
An inquest was held, and, going by the evidence of Luke Tunks, it was decided that Edwin Lister came by his end at the hands of Jabez Huxham. Cyril was compelled to attend and give evidence, but said as little as he could, not wishing to make his father's shady career too public. He simply stated that his father was a trader in Nigeria, and being the friend of Durgo, the dispossessed chief of a friendly tribe in the far Hinterland, had come home to see Huxham and get from him certain jewels. Of course he could not suppress the fact that these jewels had been given by Kawal to Maxwell Faith, and had been stolen from the dead body of the man by his murderer, Captain Huxham: nor could he fail to state that Bella was the daughter of Maxwell Faith, since had he not done so the jewels might have been taken from her. But Cyril as clearly and carefully as he could, quite aware of the delicate position he occupied. There was no doubt that Huxham, lest the murder of Faith should be brought home to him, and anxious to retain the jewels which were the price of blood, had murdered Lister; afterwards he had disposed of the body in the ingenious manner explained. But Lister was dead; Huxham was dead; Vand and Durgo were dead, so the papers suggested that there should be an end to the succession of terrible events which made Marshely so notorious.
 
"And I think this is the last," said Cyril, when he returned to Miss Ankers' cottage from his father's funeral. "Bella, we can't stay here."
 
"I'm sure I don't want to," replied the girl, who looked worn and thin. "The place is getting on my nerves. I'll marry you as soon as you like, dear, and then we can go away. But this morning"—she hesitated—"I received a letter from my father's relatives. They ask me to come to them."
 
"What will you do?" asked Cyril gravely.
 
"Write and say that I am marrying you and intend to go abroad."
 
"But, Bella, if you reside with your relatives you may be able to make a much better match."
 
"Yes," said Bella with a . "I might marry a Quaker. No, dear, I intend to stay with you and marry you. I have done without my relatives for all this time, and I hope to continue doing without them."
 
"Bella! Bella! I have nothing to offer you."
 
"Yourself, dear. That is all I want."
 
"A stupid gift on my part," said Cyril, looking ruefully in a near mirror at his face, which was now lean and haggard. "You have the money, and also the sympathy of the public. I can offer you nothing but a name."
 
"Oh, nonsense!" she said vigorously. "I won't have you talk in that way. Why, one of the newspapers referred to your father as a pioneer of Empire."
 
Sad as he was Cyril could not help smiling. "That is just like my father's good luck," he exclaimed; "alive or dead, everything comes to him. I expect his shady doings will be overlooked, and——"
 
"No one knows of his shady doings, dear."
 
"Well, then, he will be looked upon as a hero. It's just as well he is buried in Marshely churchyard, for some might propose to bury him in Westminster Abbey."
 
"You will be congratulated on having such a father."
 
"No!" cried Cyril violently. "I won't stand that, Bella. We shall go to London next week and get married in a registry office. Miss Ankers can come with you to play ."
 
Bella laughed. "I rather think Dora is so busy nursing poor Mr. Pence back to health that she has no time."
 
"Why, you don't mean to say that she loves Pence?"
 
"Yes and no. I won't say what may happen. She pities him for his weakness, and pity, as you know, is to love. Besides, only ourselves and Inglis know of the temptation to which Mr. Pence was submitted."
 
"Why, Bella, everyone knows he saw the corpse of Huxham and held his tongue."
 
"Yes, but everyone doesn't know that he took the one hundred pounds which he restored to me. He is looked upon as somewhat weak for not having informed the police of the crime, but on the whole people are sorry for him."
 
"I shall be sorry, too, if a nice little woman like Miss Ankers marries such a backboneless creature."
 
"Cyril! Cyril! have not our late troubles shown you that we must judge no one? After what we have undergone I shall never, never give an opinion about anyone again. I am sorry now that I did not behave better to poor Mrs. Vand. When my supposed father was alive I did treat her . No wonder she disliked me."
 
"My dear," said Lister, taking her hand, "don't be too hard on yourself. You and your so-called aunt would never have got on well together."
 
"But I might have been kinder," said Bella, almost crying; "now that she is dead and gone I feel that I might have been kinder."
 
"How do you know that she is dead and gone?" asked Cyril, in so strange a tone that Bella, dashing the tears from her eyes, looked at him inquiringly. "She is alive," he replied to that mute interrogation.
 
"Oh, Cyril, I am so glad! Tell me all about it."
 
"I don't know that I am glad, poor soul," said Lister sadly. "The police are on her track. I didn't want to tell you, Bella, but for the last two days the papers have been full of the hunt after Mrs. Vand."
 
"Why didn't Dora tell me?"
 
"I asked her not to. You have had quite enough to bear."
 
"Well, now that you have told me some, tell me all."
 
"There isn't much to tell. Some too clever in Bloomsbury suspected a quiet lady . It certainly was Mrs. Vand, but she became suspicious of her landlady and cleared out. Then she was seen at Putney, and afterwards someone noticed her in Hampstead. The papers having been the police about the matter, they'll catch her in the end."
 
"Poor Mrs. Vand! poor Mrs. Vand!" The girl's eyes again filled with tears.
 
"We can't help her, Bella. I wish Timson could get hold of her and induce her to stand her trial. I don't think either judge or jury would be hard on her; more, I fancy that her brain must be turned with all this ."
 
"And she has lost her husband, too," sighed Bella; "she loved him so. Oh, dear Cyril, what should I do if I lost you?"
 
Before Lister could reply with the usual lover-like attentions there was a noise in the road, and looking through the window they saw many people hurrying along. Dora came in at the moment from the other room, whither she always withdrew when not nursing Pence.
 
"It is only some policeman they are running after. He declares that Mrs. Vand is in the neighbourhood. If she is I hope she will escape."
 
"By Jove! I must go out and see," said Cyril, seizing his hat.
 
"I shall come also," cried Bella, and in a few minutes the two were on the road. But by this time the people were not tearing along as they had been, and one villager told Lister that it had been a false alarm.
 
"The old vixen won't come back to her first hole," said the villager with a coarse laugh, and Bella frowned at him for his inhumanity.
 
As there really was nothing to hurry for the lovers strolled easily along the road talking of their future. "Bella, you haven't many boxes?" asked Cyril.
 
"Only two. Why do you ask?"
 
"Will you be ready to come with me to London to-morrow?"
 
"Yes; I shall be glad to get out of Marshely, where I have been so . Only I wish I knew where Mrs. Vand is, poor soul."
 
Cyril passed over the reference to Mrs. Vand, as he was weary of discussing that unfortunate woman. "There's a chum of mine got a motor," said the young man. "I wrote and asked him for the loan of it. He brought it down last night, and it is safely in the stables of 'The Chequers.' To-morrow at nine o'clock let us start off with your boxes——"
 
"And Dora?"
 
"No," said Cyril, very decidedly. "Dora can remain with Pence, whom she probably will marry. We will go to London and get married at a registry office in the afternoon, and then cross to Paris for our . I haven't much money, Miss Rothschild, but I have enough for that. In our own happiness let us forget all our troubles."
 
"I'll come," said Bella with a sigh. "After all, we can do nothing. By the way, Cyril, what about Durgo's things?"
 
"Well it's odd you should mention that. He evidently thought that something might happen to him on that night, for he left a note behind him saying that if he did not return they were to be given to me. So I have shifted them long since to my . There they lie packed up, and ready to be taken away in our motor to-morrow."
 
"Cyril, you have been arranging this for some time?"
 
"Well, I have. It's the only way of getting you to leave this place, and you will always be miserable while you remain here."
 
"I only stayed in the hope that poor Mrs. Vand might return, and then I would be able to comfort her. Oh! how I wish Durgo with his occult powers was here to help us."
 
"I don'............