“A what?” asked Sir George, coming up.  “What’s a murder?  Where?”

“Here, see!” and a Woode pulled away the twigs which had but half hidden the body from view.

“Heaven forfend us!” ejaculated the baron as he gazed horror-stricken at the body. “’Tis a foul villainy, and so near Haddon, too.”

“’Tis the poor Derby pedlar,” exclaimed Dorothy, “and it was but yester e’en since he was at the Hall.”

“Ha! ’tis lately done, I see.  Trust me, I shall see to this.  We’ll have no ghosts round Haddon, Doll.  To-morrow we’ll enquire into it.  I must get to the root of this.”

“’Tis evident it was a robbery,” suggested Manners.  “Even now the knaves may be lurking round.”

Sir George took the hint and the vicinity was closely examined, but, of course, not a trace of the perpetrators could be found; so, leaving the followers to bring on the body in the rear, the party hurried forward to gain the friendly shelter of the Hall and to partake of the bountiful feast which the Lady Maude had provided for them.

CHAPTER IV.

Dame Durden’s ordeal.

  Fear fell on me and I fled.
  * * * * *
  I took the least frequented road,
    But even there arose a hum;
  Lights showed in every vile abode,
    And far away I heard the drum. 
  Roused with the city, late so still;
    Burghers, half-clad, ran hurrying by,
  Old crones came forth, and scolded shrill,
    Then shouted challenge and reply.

  AYTOUN.

Next morning the Hall was early astir.  The news of the murder had spread far and wide, and had caused a feeling of consternation in the neighbourhood, which was intensified by the mystery in which it was enshrouded.

De la Zouch had grown worse during the night, and soon after the break of day had departed, with Eustace, for Ashby Castle, declaring that in spite of the good intentions of Sir Benedict his case was not understood, and that it had been aggravated rather than improved by the attentions he had received from his friend.

Sir George, as magistrate of the district, had caused the body to be dressed, and for a long time he sat in his dressing-room pondering what steps he had better take next.  There was absolutely no clue, yet the baron was determined not only to discover the culprit, but to make such an example of him as should effectually deter a repetition of such a crime in the neighbourhood of Haddon, at least for some time to come.

At length he issued from his room, and, passing along the corridor, he ascended a short flight of stairs, and stopped at the door of the room in which Dorothy was busily engaged in making some new tapestry hangings.  He paused, uncertain whether to turn back or to enter.

“Yes, I will,” he muttered; “she has the clearest head of them all,” and suiting the action to the word he gently turned the handle and went in.