Quill's Window

g strolls in the country, frequently passing the Windom place, and twice he had gone as far as the railed-in base o

d, in which cattle grazed placidly, he could see the abandoned house where Alix Crown was born,-a colourless, weather-beaten, two-storey frame building with f

cy to indulge in calculation. He followed with his eye what must have been the path of the slayer on that dreadful night. It led, no doubt, to the spot on which he now was standing, for just behind him was the suggestion of a narrow, w

le in the face of the rock-Quill's Window. It was plainly visible from the river, a wide black gash in the almost

ge old-fashioned lanthorn. He thought of him hanging by the neck back in the dark recess, victim either of his own conscience or the implacab

to his eerie home. The entrance appeared to be no more than twenty feet below the brow of the cliff. It would not even be a hazardous undertaking. Besides, if Quill and his successors were able to go up and down that wall safely and repeatedly, why not he? No doubt scores of men,-perhaps even schoolboys of the To

certain gruesome possibilities,-such as the dislodgment of stones at the bottom of the crevice and the consequent exposure of a thing that would haunt him forever. And e

ccasion. That feat was to be reserved for another day. Arriving at the gate, he was surprised and gratified to discover that it was unlocked. While it was latched, t

ed as a path up the rock, and again his thoughts went back to the night of the murder. This had been David Windom's route to the top of the hill. He found himself discrediting one feature at least of the man's confession. On

n beat down fiercely upon the unsheltered rock. Off to the north lay the pall of smoke indicating the presence of the invisible county seat. Thin, anfr

rom the edge of the cliff he discovered the now thoroughly rotted section of a tree trunk, eight or ten inches in diameter, driven deeply into a narrow fissure and rendered absolutely immovable by a solid mass of stones and gravel that completely closed the remainder of the crevice. He was right in surmising that this was the support from which Quill's rope or vine

. No visible sign of the cleft in the surface of the rock remained. Six huge boulders, arranged

ath, with the line: "Rock of Ages Cleft for Me." Below this inscription was the recently carved name of Edwar

that his father's grave in Woodlawn was supposed to be sacred to him and to his mother, was overlooked in the silent contemplation of what an even less sophisticated person might have been justified in describing as a "freak." Nothing was farther from his mind, however, than the desire or impulse to be disrespectful. And yet, as he was about to turn away from this sombre pile, he leaned over and struck a match on

nlit rock with apprehensive eyes, a voice,

you doin

ughed. He beheld a slim figure in riding-togs. Nothing formidable or ghostlike in that! Nevertheless, a pair of dark blue ey

at sign on the gate

still smiling as he r

. "And I owe y

ed the riding-crop gripped rath

the steep. He saw her bosom rise and fall under the khaki jacket; her nostrils were slightly distended. In that first glimpse of her, he took in the gr

s Crown,-you ARE Miss Crown?-I can only ask you to believe that it was not a conscious act o

ly grave,-Oh, you need not attempt to deny it. You are a stranger here, but that is no excuse for your passing through that gate. I AM Miss Crown. This hill belongs to me. It was I who had that fence put up and it was I w

der the scorn

as unlocked

been wide open, sir,-but that did no

y. As he started down the path, he paused to add: "I did not know you had returned. I

ed sarcasm did

e I was born. My mother died on the day I was born. I never saw them. I do not love them, because I never knew them. But I DO respect and honour them. They were good people. I have no reason to be ashamed of them. If you will look out over those trees and across that pasture, you will see the house in which my mother died and where I was born. Directly in front of the little porch my father died as the result of a blow delivered by my grandfather. As to the disposal of the body, y

stared after her for a few seconds, his lips parted as if to speak, and then, as the flush of m

t his first encounter