the matter stood, my heart bubbling over with thankfulness and joy.

Then the clothes have been the poor devil's death, said he. It is clear enough that the hound has been laid on from some article of Sir Henry's -- the boot which was abstracted in the hotel, in all probability -- and so ran this man down. There is one very singular thing, however: How came Selden, in the darkness, to know that the hound was on his trail?

He heard him.

To hear a hound upon the moor would not work a hard man like this convict into such a paroxysm of terror that he would risk recapture by screaming wildly for help. By his cries he must have run a long way after he knew the animal was on his track. How did he know?

A greater mystery to me is why this hound, presuming that all our conjectures are correct --

I presume nothing.

Well, then, why this hound should be loose to-night. I suppose that it does not always run loose upon the moor. Stapleton would not let it go unless he had reason to think that Sir Henry would be there.

My difficulty is the more formidable of the two, for I think that we shall very shortly get an explanation of yours, while mine may remain forever a mystery. The question now is, what shall we do with this poor wretch's body? We cannot leave it here to the foxes and the ravens.